


Year Seventeen (Besh)

by DarthAstris



Series: Heirs To The Empire (Besh) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Asphyxiation, Beating, Blood, Bottom Hux, Broken Bones, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Choking, Cutting, Dark Side Leia AU, Drowning, Eye Gouging, Flogging, Gore, Hair Pulling, Hanging, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Abuse, Mental Health Issues, NO BUT I'M LITERALLY THE WORST, Paranoia, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Public Humiliation, Rape, Scarification, Sensory Deprivation, Sensory Overload, Sleep Deprivation, Suicidal Thoughts, Top Kylo Ren, Torture, Trauma, Whipping, YES I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON OK, attempted suicide, bandage pulling, forced standing, stitch pulling, stress positions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:20:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 42,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7447552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAstris/pseuds/DarthAstris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a projected future of a tabletop Star Wars RPG I'm playing with some friends right now, which started off with Ben and his twin brother, Anakin, at age 16.  (Thus, the title.  Year 17 is actually turning out quite different, game-wise, so I'll eventually post that as Year 17 (Aurek) and the prelude, Year 16 (Aurek), which is going up now.)</p><p>Set in an Infinities AU where Leia Organa turned to the Dark Side during ANH, killed Vader herself, became the Emperor's apprentice, then killed him to take over the Empire which has now been thrown into civil war by her actions.  Instead of marrying Han Solo, she married Imperial TIE pilot Turr Phennir and, a year later, gave birth to twin sons, Anakin and Ben.  (Longer timeline of events listed in the notes below.)</p><p>Where our tale begins: Seventeen year old Ben Organa-Phennir has asked to become his mother’s apprentice, but Leia feels he’s too inexperienced.  He decides to prove himself by retrieving something she has searched for herself and never found: ancient Sith relics from the mythical planet of Dromund Kaas.  Meanwhile, someone has ordered the kidnapping and torture of Ben’s secret boyfriend, Hux, to teach Ben a lesson about weaknesses and attachments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to info dump in the story itself, so here is the exact timeline that we were given, as players in the game:
> 
>  **GEV (Galactic Empire Victorious) 0**  
>  End of the Clone Wars, birth of the Empire
> 
>  **GEV 18**  
>  Leia Organa is captured by Darth Vader and identified as strong in the Force.  
> Vader takes Leia to the Inquisitorious Citadel on Vjun.  
> Meanwhile, Tarkin has no reason to destroy Alderaan.  
> Tarkin orders Death Star to proceed with Palpatine’s ‘Hit-List’ of planets.  
> Death Star destroys Mon Calamari home world of Dac.  
> Luke Skywalker and Obi-wan reach Alderaan without incident.  
> Bail Organa brings the duo to the Rebel Alliance.  
> Tarkin continues with the Hit List and heads to Bothan homeworld, Bothawui.  
> The Rebel Alliance destroy the Death Star at the Battle of Bothawui.  
> Leia Organa embraces the dark side and becomes an Inquisitor.  
> Leia’s first act is to arrest her adopted father, Bail Organa, as a Rebel.  
> Rebel Alliance on Alderaan rounded up and purged. Bail Organa executed.
> 
>  **GEV 19**  
>  Obi-wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker help re-establish the Jedi.  
> The Imperial Inquisition grows.  
> Leia Organa begins a relationship with Imperial pilot Turr Phennir.  
> Rebel Alliance, without Mon Calamari Cruisers, struggles with Imperial Navy.
> 
>  **GEV 21**  
>  The Empire defeats the Rebel Alliance at the Battle of Hoth.  
> Princess Leia marries Turr Phennir.  
> Princess Leia gives birth to twin boys, Anakin and Ben.
> 
>  **GEV 22**  
>  The Rebellion is crushed at the Battle of Endor.  
> Several Jedi rumoured to survive the fiasco.  
> Vader challenges Palpatine, but Leia interferes.  
> Leia kills Vader and becomes the Emperor’s new Sith Apprentice.
> 
>  **GEV 25**  
>  Rebel Alliance barely active. Empire has practically won.
> 
>  **GEV 28**  
>  The Emperor loses himself in his Force studies on Byss.  
> Leia Organa-Phennir fills the Emperor’s void at court on Coruscant.  
> The Imperial Ruling Council begin to resent Leia’s presence.
> 
>  **GEV 32**  
>  Imperial media begin to call Princess Leia the heir of the Empire, not just Alderaan.
> 
>  **GEV 33**  
>  Young and ambitious Imperials, both military and political, gather around Leia.  
> The old guard of Palpatine’s era grow ever more hostile to Leia’s faction.
> 
>  **GEV 37**  
>  Anakin and Ben are now 16, on the verge of adulthood.  
> Heirs to their mother and Imperial royalty, the twins are rich and famous.  
> Leia is about to make her play for the Imperial Throne.  
> Even if she beats Palpatine, many Imperials will reject her claim to rule.  
> A devastating Imperial Civil War is about to begin.  
> And the twins are going to be right in the middle of it!  
>   
>   
>   
>   
>   
> Further notes on tagging: I'm not fucking around with the warnings here. I have gone very dark and graphic with this. If anything squicks you that I haven't tagged, please feel free to tell me. I wasn't writing this with an eye toward fapping; it's absolutely meant to be horrifying, and I'm not glorifying or condoning this kind of behavior in any way. As far as the "underage" tag goes, I'm just playing it safe there. Technically speaking, in-universe, humans are considered adults at 16.  
>   
>   
>   
>   
> I have changed this work's status to "complete". It was only meant to be a one-off from my game and I think it has a nice stopping point. Though I may come back to it at some (much later) point! ^__^;;;  
>   
>   
>   
> 

  
  


Armitage Hux didn’t care for the outdoors much. He preferred the smooth surfaces and angular geometry of cold alusteel, and portals that looked out over the endless majesty of space. Of course, he could appreciate the natural beauty of Alderaan’s towering trees and the breath-taking Cloudshape Falls, but he preferred to do so from a distance. Through the HoloNet, say, or at the very least from behind a nice transparisteel window. Nature was so… _messy_.

He’d been on the pre-Commissioning camping trip for all of five _kriffing_ minutes before tiny, buzzing insects had made a feast of his exposed flesh. As he scratched yet another irritation behind his ear, one of his classmates tossed him a tube of gel from her pack.

“Nazgo’s! Keeps the Biters off!” Hegan imitated the holo-ad and struck a pose, laughing. “I told you nerfherders Hux would be the only one they’d go after! That’s 10 credits, Tulan!”

“Thanks,” Hux grumbled, rubbing the minty ointment over his face, neck, and arms.

Hegan grinned back at him while collecting her winnings from Tulan, the only one of his friends who had bet against his misery. Hux wasn’t sure if Hegan thought he was being sarcastic or not, but she didn’t seem to care. He handed the repellant back to her as he passed by to help set up the tents. 

Normally, officers on the command track didn’t join in on this sort of thing, but Organa-Phennir had arranged for his bunkmates to participate. Alderaan was his homeworld, and he was proud to show off his planet’s famed elegance and hospitality. A few nights in the woods with the specialists and then they would all retire to the royal house to enjoy the last bit of luxury they were likely to see for a very long time. As soon as the Commissioning Ceremony was over, they would all receive their assignments and report directly to their stations aboard various Star Destroyers and bases, where they would subsist on K-18s and polystarch veg-meats for the rest of their lives.

Now that every last Rebel sympathizer had been cleared out, Alderaan was quite safe again, and Hux could tell that his friend, Anakin, was glad to be home. 

“Hey, O-P! Are we gonna get to ride one of your thranta?” Callum called out over his shoulder.

Anakin tolerated the nickname his classmates had given him, but it was clear to Hux that he didn’t like it. Hux understood the need for brevity in a combat situation, and Organa-Phennir was quite a mouthful, but he thought it rude and uncouth at a time such as this. _A being’s name should be respected, especially one from so great a house as Anakin’s._ Hux acquiesced to using Anakin’s first name instead, even though it was also a bit unorthodox.

“Definitely. I’ve arranged for us all to have a go while we’re here.”

“That’s what she said,” Hegan chuckled to herself and winked at Hux. She loved antagonizing him.

Hux closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. _Infants, all of them._ He smiled, in spite of himself. _And someday, they’ll be commanding Star Destroyers and legions of soldiers right alongside me._ If there were a time and place for barracks humor, he supposed this was it. They had a week to relax, so he might as well start enjoying it. Hux didn’t really know how to let go -- he'd never had a vacation before -- so he kept himself busy setting up the campground in the meantime and observed his fellow officers.

He finished hammering in the last of the tent pegs and went to help Callum with the fire pit. Callum looked surprised to see him. “Huh,” he said, as Hux gathered together more twigs and kindling to place in the stone circle.

“What?”

“I didn’t think anyone with chest candy would get down in the dirt with us bolt-catchers, is all.”

“We’re all in this together, aren’t we, Squad Leader Callum?” Hux smiled.

Callum shrugged and tried to pretend he wasn’t impressed that Hux knew his name. He would have been astonished had he known that Hux had spent the night before their departure memorizing every name, rank, position, homeworld, familial tie, and face of the twelve cadets whom they had joined for this trip. 

“Besides, the faster we finish this, the sooner we can get warm and start in on that jet juice, right?” he raised an eyebrow and gave a knowing glance down at Callum’s canteen. 

“Hah!” he exclaimed, “I hope I get assigned to your ship someday!”

“Don’t be so sure,” Hux quipped back. 

Once the fire was roaring, and everyone was huddled around its warm glow, telling jokes and commiserating over their training experiences, Hux finally felt like he was welcome. For once, the topic was not him or his father’s legacy, and so far everyone present had at least been pleasant, if not friendly toward him. Most of the bullying had stopped half-way through his first year at the Academy, anyway, once they had seen how hard he worked. Still, he rarely let his guard down, even in front of Ben (whom he hadn't seen in months and wished were here), but once the hooch started making the rounds he decided to just give in for once. Hux justified it by telling himself it was all in the spirit of team-building and camaraderie. 

_Right, that's it exactly,_ he thought, as the acrid taste brought a warm blush to his cheeks. To his credit, he did not cough as they had all expected.

By the end of the night, he was glad he could blame his ruddy complexion on the alcohol, and not at all because he spent most of the time imagining what he would be doing right now if Ben were here with him.

"Time to hit the fart sacks, gentlebeings," Hegan slurred, tossing the rest of her drink into the fire so that it flashed, getting everyone's attention. "We have a looooooong hike to the Falls tomorrow, and we don't need to be stopping every ten minutes for you drunk barracks rats to be praying to the foliage."

"Who would have suspected Hegan would turn out to be more ate-up than Hux!" Del-Bara grumbled, pulling himself unsteadily to his feet.

"Stow it, Tens," she fired back, losing her balance and falling hard onto her ass. Everyone, including Hux, laughed at that. Admittedly, Hegan's boisterous personality had clashed with Hux's stoic nature at first, but he had grown to appreciate her somewhat uncivilized ways. She was a good leader, and knew how to ingratiate herself with the troops. Hux had learned a lot from her in their 3 years as bunkmates. "Belay my last. Maybe we'd better just bed down right here."

Anakin and Hux, who hadn't drunk nearly as much as their classmates, got up to help Hegan to her feet as everyone crawled or stumbled back to their tents for the night. The three line officers would have the tent to themselves since their other bunkmate, Tulan, required far less downtime than hi/r human comrades and offered to take both first and second watch. Tulan, a Verpine who had grown up on Hoth (of all places!), was used to far colder temperatures than the Alderaanian mountains could produce. S/he enjoyed this rather summer-y breeze and wanted to stay outside as long as possible.

Hux and Anakin deposited the already unconscious Hegan in her sleeping bag, and Hux excused himself to find a suitable toilet. When he returned, he saw Anakin sitting by the dwindling fire, seemingly deep in meditation. Hux always wondered just how strong Anakin's Force powers really were. It seemed a waste to let them go untapped, as Anakin had done during his time at the Academy. On the one hand, Hux admired Anakin's desire to prove himself – it seemed they were cut from very similar synthweave – but, on the other, the Force could be a great asset to the military, much like the Jedi of legend for whom he was named. He watched him for a while, hoping that he wasn't being a nuisance.

They were so different, Anakin and Ben. Both driven by ambition, but in polar directions and with opposing means. It saddened him to think that they were likely destined to come to blows, and he would be forced to choose between his friend or his lover.

When the concussion grenade exploded next to him, he was almost relieved that he might not have to make that choice after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ben swore and pulled his boot from the mud for what must have been the thousandth time that day. He had rather enjoyed the rain for the first few hours after landing on the mythical world of Dromund Kaas. Elated that he had not only managed to discover its whereabouts, but had also made a successful landing through its tumultuous atmosphere, very little had been able to shake his sense of pride in his accomplishments.

That was over a month ago.

He really thought he would get used to the constant downpour, but the truth was non-amphibious species had a decided disadvantage when it came to being wet all the time. Ben had taken shelter in a cave near a ruined, ancient Sith temple, but even the stone seemed to weep at the state of the weather.

_No wonder they just let this planet fall to kark. How did they ever keep their electronics functioning?_

Ben's personal communicator had fizzled out within the first week, and his top-of-the-line datapad shortly thereafter, despite the finest in military-grade weatherproofing and safekeeping. He figured he could use the Force to find his ship again, provided it hadn't been swept away by a flood, but the lack of creature comforts in his downtime was disheartening. His holorecorder still worked, intermittently, so he started chronicling his adventures in misery for Hux, who would no doubt be amused that not only had Ben found a planet where it rained more than Hux's homeworld, but that he had to be out in it.

Ben _hated_ being wet.

_I can't believe the whole_ kriffing _planet hasn't washed away at this point. Oh, for Sion's sake!_

In freeing his left foot, he had leaned too heavily in the opposite direction, sinking up to his knee in the swampy effluence. Not for the first time that morning, Ben completely lost his temper. 

Letting his anger flow through him, he Force blasted the mud away and managed to blow himself nearly 20 meters away and up into a tree. The Dark Side energies in this place were powerful, and he had yet to learn to funnel them appropriately. Looking down at the crater he’d left behind, he noticed that his right foot was completely bare. His boot was nowhere to be seen. He hung his head and began to chuckle, then laugh, because on his belt hung the holorecorder, and it was on. Of course it was.

He held it up to his face, then aimed it toward the pit and his now bootless-foot, and back to his face again. “Did you enjoy that? Because I certainly did,” he deadpanned into the camera. After a few more despairing laughs, “Ahhhh, Tage. I wish I could be home with you right now. I’m probably going to miss your commissioning, but I hope this makes up for it… And don’t you _dare_ show this to my brother when you get it.”

He clicked off the recorder and began the laborious climb down. Once he reached the bottom, he spent an inordinate amount of time picking twigs and leaves and mud gobs from his hair and tunic before getting on with things. Deciding that one-boot-on-one-boot-off made for an awkward gait, he pulled off his other boot and hurled it into the trees. It was completely soaked through and useless anyhow. He sat down on a rock and ripped a long strip of cloth off of his ragged cloak, then wrapped the soles of his feet for a little protection.

This time he tried sticking to the edge of the forest, where rocks from the mountains had tumbled down to create semi-solid ground. He made better time that way, though his makeshift socks quickly dissolved into ribbons on the jagged outcroppings. 

_Never mind. Feel the pain. Don’t shut it out; use it! It’s so close now. I can sense it!_

His mother demanded the means to conjure a Sithspawn as payment for his apprenticeship, and she would have it if it meant cutting himself to ribbons to find one. He paused and knelt for a moment on the rough stone to meditate. 

The entire planet was suffused with the powers of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Sith lords who had gone before, and they conspired both to aid and hinder his progress at every turn. He had to seek the one energy signature among the many: sigils he had foreseen in his dreams every night since his arrival. He shut out the world around him as he closed his eyes and focused on the ancient symbols, holding the image in his mind until its unique glow lit the path before him like a torch. He was still about a week’s travel away from it, at least, but now he knew exactly where to look. 

He rose from his trance and steeled himself with his newfound determination. Ben pulled his sodden hood over his head and ignored the bloody trails his feet left as he trudged onward. The rain soon washed them away into nothingness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hux woke to find himself inside a large cage in the cargo hold of a ship. Upon sitting up, which the flare of pain in his head quickly reminded him was the wrong thing to have done, he found that 5 of his other classmates had been captured as well. Callum and Hegan shared space with him, while Vor’Danna, Xerxa, and Del-Bara shared another on the other side of the hold. He didn’t see Anakin or Tulan anywhere, so he assumed it had been a random grab, refusing to think the worst had befallen his fellow officers.

Hegan and the others were already awake, and in various states of dishevelment. From the blaster and stun burns, it looked as though they had put up quite a fight.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Hegan quipped.

“All the stars…” Hux groaned. “You lot look like you got Class D-ed.”

“We didn’t take it lying down, unlike some of us,” she smirked.

“Har har, what’s the sitrep?”

Callum spoke up, nursing a busted lip, “Mercs. Slavers maybe, or ABHs from the looks of it. All wearing banged up Stormtrooper armor. They tossed a few stun grenades and then lit the place up. Blue-ringed everything that moved. Hegan and I both had the same idea. We crawled out the backs of our tents and jumped two of ‘em. Put the hurt on ‘em good before we got treated to the blue ring buffet ourselves.”

_Stormtrooper armor…_ Hux pondered, standing up to get a better look around the hold. _Slavers wouldn’t want anything to do with Imperial Officers, mercs and bounty hunters maybe, but a handful of cadets couldn’t be worth much to them._ Then he figured it out.

“You say they were all wearing Stormtrooper armor? Don’t you specialists have some kind of illegal, graduation hazing ritual? Could that be what’s going on here?” he asked Callum.

“Hah!” he guffawed, “You know what? I bet you’re right.” Callum continued, calling out into the otherwise empty cargo hold. “Very funny, you guys! The game is up! You win! You can come on out now! We’re real scared here! Shakin’ in our boots!”

A large human with a scruffy, unwashed look to him came strolling around the corner of the passageway. He was still dressed in the white plates of Stormtrooper armor, which were ill-suited for his massive frame, and carried his helmet under his arm. He stopped a safe distance from the cage and snorted, looking Hux up and down. “The sleeping prince awakens. Nice of you to join us.” He bowed in mock obsequiousness. 

Hux could just make out the serial number on the underside of the man’s helmet.

He stood as tall as he could manage, squared his narrow shoulders, curled his lip into a sneer, and assumed his best air of authority, “Trooper TL-557, I demand that you release us at once. As you well know, hazing was made illegal by Imperial Edict 281.357, and I will _not_ stand for it.”

“Hazing?” he chuckled, “Boy, you have no idea what you’ve got yourself into. Strip.”

“I beg your pardon! Have you any idea who my father is? He’ll have you—”

“I don’t give a rancor’s wet ass who your daddy is. You heard me, kid. All of ya. Take it off.”

“Now, you see here! I am an Imperial Officer and I refuse to allow myself or my comrades to be treated in this manner. You will release us at once! That is an _order_!”

“It seems that grenade deafened you,” an electronically filtered voice sounded from down the passageway.

Hux drew up short as Prince Ben Organa-Phennir strode into the cargo hold, black cloak trailing behind him like a shadow with a life of its own. Two more helmeted troopers followed behind him, blasters raised.

“B—Prince Organa! Oh, thank the stars! Tell them to belay this nonsense at on—”

“You heard the man. Take it off.”

“What in blazes—”

Ben’s lightsaber snapped to life. He held it between the bars, the tip of it close enough to Hux’s face that he could smell the ozone in the electrified air around it. “Do not make me tell you a second time.”

It wasn’t as if they’d never seen each other naked before – it was standard practice in the barracks and on starships – but this was different. Humiliating. There were beings present that he neither knew nor trusted. Hux was hurt that Ben would stoop to such antics for a mere prank. He knew how ashamed Hux was of the scars that crisscrossed back. Nevertheless, he was confused and afraid, so he complied, as did the others. He stepped in front of Hegan to block the lascivious trooper’s view of her as they stripped down to their basics.

“He said, ‘All of it.’”

“My Prince, please—”

Ben motioned behind him to the cage containing the other three students, and the troopers opened fire. Their blasters were not set to stun. Hux stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed as Engineer Baelin Vor’Danna of Coruscant, Mission Specialist Xerxa of Falleen, and TIE Pilot Officer Min Del-Bara of Corellia were slaughtered before his eyes.

He managed to close his mouth only when Ben turned back toward him, face unreadable behind his black mask. Hux swallowed hard, removing his basics while still staring at the bodies of his fallen classmates. Ben used the Force to toss their discarded clothes into an empty crate out of their reach. 

Hux trembled, as much from the chill of space as the sight of death, but he breathed deeply and tried to maintain his composure. He was an Imperial Officer and he had a duty to do. To let Hegan or Callum see his fear would be an unforgivable failure of that duty.

“I can smell your fear. Your anger. It only makes me stronger.”

Hux used to laugh at Ben’s ridiculously modulated voice. Now he found it downright terrifying.

“Tell me, Armitage, do you still think this is a game?”

He was hoping he wouldn’t have to speak, but managed to reply somewhat stolidly, “No.”

“Good.”

With another wave of Ben’s gloved hand, Hux, Hegan, and Callum collapsed to the deck, unconscious.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A sudden spike of fear pulled Ben from his nightly meditations. The spirits of the fallen Sith lords seemed afraid, now that he was on the right path. _Good._

He smiled and got up to continue walking.


	2. Chapter 2

  
  
  


When Hux woke for a second time, he wasn’t even sure that he had. The room, or whatever he was in, was devoid of light. He waited, blinking and holding his hand at various distances from his face, but there was nothing for his eyes to adjust to.

_Survive, evade, resist, escape._ So far he had managed the first three to varying degrees of non-success; it was time to attempt the fourth. As he felt his way gingerly around the scabrous permacrete floor he noticed the cold, braided metal cord around his neck. His fingers traced the curious object and found that the cable passed first through some kind of locking device at the back of his neck, then off towards the ceiling. He tried to feel how high it extended into the blackness above, but it was out of his reach. Yanking on it a few times he found that it was firmly anchored.

_A restraining device of some kind, then. Alright. Deep breath. Think logically. If you can walk out the circumference of the room and see how much slack it has, you can figure out how long it might be._

Hux took a moment to calm himself, and began stepping forward, hands outstretched in the darkness, hoping to meet a wall before he played out the slack on his chain. Instead, when he reached the end, the cable snapped him back and pulled him high into the air. He clawed at his neck in a panic, trying to slip his fingers behind the garroting wire, but it had already pinched tight against his throat. He gasped for breath that would not come. It had all happened so suddenly he hadn’t had time to hold his breath or even to think. His feet kicked wildly in the void below him, desperately seeking purchase somewhere. 

Fortunately, his training kicked in and he felt his arms defying the instinct to protect his throat, reaching up almost involuntarily above him to grasp the length of the cable. He couldn’t be sure he was about to black out, because he couldn’t see the darkness creeping in on the edges of his vision, but lightheadedness told him he had but moments left to act. Finding the cord above him, he used every ounce of remaining strength to grab on and lift himself up. 

It was just enough to let him catch his breath. 

He sucked in great gulps of air for what felt like a few minutes and felt his sense of clarity begin to return. He couldn’t stay in this position for much longer. Already his muscles were burning and trembling with exhaustion. His clammy palms began to slip. Soon he would let go. He took one final, deep breath and held it, already feeling the tension of the noose again, and curled his body upward, kicking his feet up over his head, hoping to cross his ankles around the cord and slacken the strain on his arms. 

He missed. 

_Again. Focus. Don’t panic._

A few seconds more and he would pass out and possibly die. 

He had no chance to savor his triumph when his legs and feet finally connected with the cable and stabilized his position, upside-down. With great effort, he pushed his arms upward just a few centimeters more and took up the slack with his ankles. Anchored in place, he could breathe again, but for how long? He could already feel the blood rushing to his head. Hux wasn’t sure he could trust his legs to take all of his weight in this awkward situation, but he had to let go and use his abs to curl himself up into a sitting position. 

_You can do this,_ he thought, over the sound of his ragged panting. _You’ve done it a thousand times in PT. You didn’t do all this training just to look good for—_ He stopped himself just short of thinking Ben’s name. The crushing despair that descended over him in that moment nearly made him lose his grip. This was no hazing. His friends were dead. He might be next. And Ben seemed to be the reason.

Hux let go of the cable and let his anger push him to sit up. He reached up to his ankles, grabbed the cable and ran his hands up higher and higher until he could inch his way up using both his arms and legs to support his weight on the thin line. Breathing heavily now, out of spite and triumph, he secured his position and felt upward. The cable ascended into a smooth hole in the stone ceiling. The control mechanism was behind who knew how many centimeters of rock. There was no way to access it from inside the room. At least now he could stay relatively still for quite some time without choking, although the narrow cord cut uncomfortably into his legs and palms. Surely someone would come in to check whether he had died?

Wrapping one arm again and again around the cord, he was able to free one hand long enough to feel around the noose for a better idea of what it must look like. He felt the warm stickiness of blood over the abrasions the cable had left, and followed the cord back to the small box where it fed out to the main line. He couldn’t feel any protrusions or concavities that would suggest some kind of buttons for release, but it felt faintly warm as though there might be some sort of device inside. He didn’t have any clothing or anything he could jam between his neck and the wire. It had loosened enough to allow him to breathe, but not enough that he could slip it off over his head. Something inside the box prevented the cord from letting out any further. If he put his fingers in there, and then fell, they would likely be severed. 

Dark thoughts attempted to resurface, but he shoved them back with a shuddering breath and a few coughs. 

_You’re alive right now. Concentrate on right now, and right now only. You can do this. You_ can. _Just think. You’re_ not _going to die. You’re_ not _going to panic. Your friends are here somewhere, and they are counting on you to escape. You_ will _escape this. You_ will _survive. You_ will.  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_You can do this. Just think about it, for once, without jumping in headfirst,_ Ben admonished himself.

Before him stretched a chasm that extended as far as the eye could see, in either direction. The remnants of millennia-old durasteel girders jutted out from both sides of the canyon, but came nowhere near meeting in the middle. Where once stood a great bridge, now was only emptiness.

His belt contained a cable gun and grappling hook of sorts, but he was certain it wouldn’t reach far enough, even if he crept out to the end of the longest beam. 

_Give it a test run. Stars know, all this rain has probably_ farkled _it all up anyway._ Ben smiled to himself and flicked on the holorecorder for the record. “See? I’m not always just a big, dumb, brute.” He imitated Hux’s clipped, High Galactic accent, “I’ll have you know, I’ve given this matter extensive thought.” He panned around to catch a view of the chasm, and then down to the climbing device on his belt. Clipping the recorder back where it belonged, Ben aimed for a tree in the distance, approximately as far away as the closest girder, and punched it. The durafilament cord arced out beautifully and fell about 20 meters short. 

“Well,” he sighed, looking down at the recorder.

“Ok. If I use the Force to boost my jump, then shoot it at the apex, I should be able to make it. Assuming the girders are stable enough to withstand my hauling ass down them and up the other side. If I miss, at the very least, I can use the ascension cable to just pull myself up. And at most,” he leaned over to look down into the canyon, “I’ll fall to my death into that not-at-all-deep-looking river down there. Problem solved.” 

As he reeled in the line, feeling it run over his glove into the coil-spring, Ben subconsciously reached up to rub his neck.

  
  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A heavy, metal door slid away, momentarily blinding Hux with the light that spilled through it. Revealed in the outline was Ben’s menacing form. His head turned as he surveyed the room from behind that cold mask, and then he looked up. Hux could feel him glaring.

“Ben, please. Why are you doing this? What have I—”

Saying nothing, Ben reached up toward Hux and curled his fingers inward, shaking in his anger. Hux felt his throat constricting and he gasped, clinging tightly to the cable and trying to pull himself farther away, as though distance could save him from the power of the Force. He tried to remain calm, but there was little he could do to stave off the panic this time. The cable began moving of its own accord, lowering him back to the ground, but it made little difference.

The cloaked figure approached him as he lay on the floor, struggling for breath through the increasing pressure on his windpipe. Before Ben released him, Hux felt something pop inside, and he choked and gagged on the blood that dripped down the inside of his throat. Ben kicked him hard in the stomach and he curled in on himself even more for protection. Punches rained down on his ribs and over his kidneys, and though he tried not to cry out, he couldn’t help it when he felt several ribs snap. 

Furious, frightened, Hux kicked and flailed out to try and stop him.

Ben grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back, then climbed on top of him and rammed an armored knee into the curve above his hips. Hux went limp, afraid of having his arm broken if he resisted further. His compliance seemed to infuriate Ben all the more. Ben grabbed a handful of his hair and smashed his face into the floor again and again, breaking his nose and cheekbone and jamming splintered shards of bone into his eye.

“Stop! Stop! Please!” he cried, blood obscuring his words as it bubbled out through the fractures.

Ben dropped his head only to wrest his other arm behind his back. Taking hold of Hux’s thin wrists in one hand he slapped a pair of binders on him with the other. Hux groaned as Ben got off and took a few steps back, the sudden release in pressure on his spine almost as painful as Ben’s weight had been. He tried to push himself away using just his legs, hoping the onslaught was over. Ben let out a savage growl and stomped Hux’s shin. A sickening crunch echoed in the chamber. 

  
  


Hux howled in agony until the shrouded man waved his hand and the cord once more yanked taut, leaving Hux dangling and just barely able to stand on his toes. With his arms now restrained behind his back and his left leg broken, Hux could do nothing to support his weight except trying to stay balanced on one foot. Every wheezing breath lanced pain through his chest and face. 

Before long, Hux’s leg was quaking under the strain. He couldn’t even tell where the worst pain was coming from anymore. The burning in his calf and hip radiated upward and made him feel as if his whole body were on fire. It was all he could do to concentrate on simply breathing. 

*Just let go.* The thought sprang unbidden into Hux’s mind. It was not his own voice. *Just let yourself fall. It would be so much easier that way. Then you won’t have to realize what a failure you are as you watch me do the same to your friends.*

Ben stepped toward him and reached out to trace a finger down Hux’s bare chest. 

His protest gurgled in his throat as he tried to pull away. Somehow, he knew Ben was smiling under that emotionless shell of a mask. He pleaded with his eye and strangled whimpers for Ben to stop.

*Wouldn’t you like for this to all go away? For the pain to stop?*

Ben grabbed Hux’s cock and began stroking him.

He couldn’t resist Ben’s touch and try to balance at the same time. The animal instinct to breathe won out over his desire to retain his dignity. Hux felt his shaft hardening and hated himself for it.

  
  
  


  
  
  


“Don’t. Touch. Me!” he mouthed.

*Your life or your pride? Which will it be?*

Hux tried to concentrate on his worst injuries, hoping the pain would make his erection subside, but it didn’t. His mind whirled in confusion and shame. _No! Stop it! I don’t want this! I hate you!_ He screamed in his head. _I hate you, Ben!_

Ben laughed, low and dark like distant thunder, and continued pumping him until Hux’s seed fountained out over his gloved hand. Still laughing as Hux twitched and jerked and panted in his restraints, he reached up and smeared the cum into his hair and face. 

Hux wept quietly and let his legs go out from under him, praying the end would come quickly. 

Ben let him strangle until Hux lost control and soiled himself, and then smirked again at his abject misery. 

On the verge of unconsciousness, Hux was already beginning to accept his death. He wondered if his mother had been right and his soul would rejoin the energy of the universe, perhaps to become a star, or if it was just blessed nothingness after. He hoped for the latter. 

*That wasn’t very becoming of you, _Admiral_.* 

It was a derogatory nickname the other cadets had given Hux when he stupidly announced, on his first day at the Academy prep school, that he would become the youngest Admiral in Imperial history, maybe even galactic history. Later that evening, in private, Ben had taken him aside and broken the ice by confessing that he’d had his Sith name picked out since he was 7. _“They’ll call me Kypho Ren, and I’ll be the Master of the Knights of Ren. People will tremble at the sound of my name, for they will know their death is upon them.”_ Hux had appreciated the intimacy of the gesture, but couldn’t help laughing a bit. _“Kyfo? The Knights of Ren?”_ He was glad Ben hadn’t felt insulted. The gangly youth had nodded, facing him with an intense and sincere stare, _“You’ll see. Someday, they all will. Don’t let it get to you. You’ll show them.”_

Just another lash on top of his already bloodied pride.

The cable lowered just enough for him to huddle uncomfortably on the floor once more and Ben strolled out, leaving Hux in the filth and darkness to contemplate his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  *Since "Kylo" is a portmanteau of "sKYwalker + soLO", in this AU I thought it should stay as true to the sound of the original as possible and still reflect the names of his parents, in this case "Kypho" = "sKYwalker + PHennir + Organa".  
>   
> Yes, I know in the art for the second part Hux is missing all his injuries... I'd actually drawn that pic prior to starting this fic. It was sort of the image that inspired it. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
  
Ben had paced the length of the sturdiest beam a few times and found that it would support his weight. The problem was that he had no way to test the one opposite him where he would have to make his landing. He stood on the edge and looked at the structure of the remaining girders. He didn’t know a thing about engineering, but he did know about design and overall structural supports as far as constructing clothing went. _They couldn’t be that dissimilar, surely?_

_Anything can only be as strong as its weakest part._

He closed his eyes, stretched out both hands, and visualized what seemed to be the weakest beam slowly twisting and bending in and around the stronger ones, shoring up the entire structure. A cold sweat broke out all over him, but he could hardly feel it in the driving rain. Nor did he let the squealing of the metal distract him as the bridge reformed into a simpler, but stronger and slightly longer version of its old self.

When he opened his eyes he was exhausted, but satisfied by the sturdy-looking braided chunk of scrap metal that extended toward him from the other side of the chasm. Holding up the holorecorder to witness his triumph, he grinned. 

With a rumble and a shriek of tearing durasteel, the entire side of the cliff gave way, tumbling down and crashing into the river below.

“ _Frack_ me.”

He clicked off the recorder.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Hux?” A woman’s voice sounded from somewhere nearby. “Hux? Is that you over there?”

It was Hegan. Hux flushed with shame, afraid she had been in the same room and seen everything that had transpired. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying there, wishing he would die. “Yes,” he tried to say twice before his tongue unstuck from the bottom of his mouth and he worked up enough moisture to speak again. “Yes, it’s me.”

After some hesitation she asked, “Are you alright?”

He focused on the distance of her voice and figured she must be in an adjoining cell. She sounded so small and uncharacteristically timid. “I’m ok,” Hux lied. His eye was throbbing and he thought he would be ill. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know. It’s a room about five by five meters. Stone and permacrete. Some kind of cell to house animals, from the smell of it: Nexu maybe. I can’t see anything in here, but I can feel some scratch marks on the walls and floor. There’s no light at all. There’s a metal door with no gaps between the frame and the walls, and the walls feel solid except for this tiny, barred grate down here on the floor. I can feel a draft coming from it, and it feels like my fingers can almost reach through to the other side, so maybe the walls aren’t that thick. Is it the same for you? Can you reach me?”

The longer she spoke, the more composure she seemed to regain, so Hux tried to keep her talking. “I’ve been restrained.” The blood pooled in his sinuses made it difficult to speak. He tried to lift his head but the change in pressure made him inhale sharply. “Is there anything else in your cell?”

“No. Well, there are some metal rings embedded in the wall, with a diameter of about 20 centimeters, but they’re not removable. They’re ridiculously heavy. Durasteel, probably. Some kind of restraint point for running a chain through. I tried to pry one of these small bars off the grate, but they seem to be firmly embedded in the permacrete. The only weapon I have in here is me.”

“Sounds formidable enough.” Hux tried to lighten the mood and did everything he could to keep his voice steady. “The door here is on a sliding track. Opens to the left from my POV. Also no light coming in.”

“Good to know. I’ll be sure to stay away from it.” 

Hux understood the necessary deception. It was standard operating procedure when they suspected they were being monitored in enemy territory. She fully intended to use that information to aid her escape. “Are your hands free?”

“Yes. They’ve been bound together, but in front. My mobility hasn’t been impaired except by the darkness. There’s another vent on the opposite wall as well. I thought maybe Callum was over there, but if he is he hasn’t said anything. I could hear some faint groaning from over there earlier, though.”

“Ok, see if you can rouse him and get his sitrep.” Planning their escape made him feel more proactive and gave them both a much needed boost in morale.

“Understood.” 

Hux was pleased by how quickly she had fallen into military discipline even though she was afraid. She had no reason to defer to him as they were of equal rank; moreover, he was a year younger. He supposed she respected that he had graduated at the top of the class, though she had come in second, trailing behind by only a few points. He was ashamed that he had tried to kill himself when someone in his command was depending on him. He heard her scuffle away and whisper Callum’s name from a distance. 

An alarm began blaring inside his cell. He tried to hunch his shoulders up to protect his ears but couldn’t reach. The sound oscillated between klaxons, white noise, and high pitched squeals, but the volume remained the same: ear-splitting and beyond deafening, far above the level they had been exposed to in training. Within minutes the sound became distorted and muffled into an indistinct pressure in his ears.

“Is he there? Hegan? Is Callum there?” he shouted, straining to hear any reply over the fuzz. No reply came. Either she hadn’t heard him, or he hadn’t heard her answer.

Hux had always preferred silence and solitude. The isolation and darkness he could have dealt with, but in training, he had endured sonic torture for far less time than his classmates. The cut-off time for failure was 45 minutes. Hux had lasted just 45 minutes and ten seconds. Then, his entire military career was on the line; now, his life. He’d never experienced noises so loud he couldn’t hear himself think. He always thought that was just a worthless exaggeration. 

As if that weren’t enough, he felt the cable around his neck begin tugging him to his feet again. Hux was almost thankful in that moment, that his cry of despair couldn’t be heard over the discordant noise. This time, the noose retracted to just above where he could comfortably kneel and stopped. He could either remain on his knees and gasp for breath, or stand. 

He didn’t want to stand. Every nerve in his battered body fought against movement of any kind. _It’s alright. You can do this. Yes, it’s going to hurt. It’s ok to cry out, no one can hear you._

Screaming, he forced himself up into a half-crouch. The broken bones in his leg ground against one another and he had to take deep breaths of the cold air for a while to force down the sick. _Don’t vomit, don’t vomit, please, don’t vomit._ He remembered how terrible that had felt the last time his nose was broken. He didn’t want to think about how much worse it would feel now. As damaged as his throat already was, he might choke on it and die. And now he had someone to live for. When he finally got to his feet, his head was pounding from the multiple fractures in his face as much as the damnable wall of sound. 

Despite his best efforts, he vomited. Pain ripped through his ribcage as his muscles constricted his cracked ribs and the rising bile burned his ravaged throat. He spat it out forcefully, feeling as if his face were being slammed into the ground all over again. Choking out swears between each heave, he supposed he should be thankful that he only had to retch three or four times to bring it all up, but he found it difficult to feel any sense of gratitude with tears, snot, blood, and sick dribbling from his face. He narrowly escaped blacking out and losing his balance. 

When he tried to focus his mind on his training, reciting the Imperial Officer’s Code Of Conduct in his head like a mantra, he had immense difficulty concentrating. 

_I am an Officer of the Imperial Navy. I fight to defend the Empire and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life in their defense. I will never surrender of my own free will. If in command, I will never surrender the members of my command while they still have the means to resist. If I am captured, I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape, and to assist others in escaping. I will accept no special favors from the enemy. If I become a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information nor take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades. If I am senior I will take command. If not, I will obey the lawful orders of those appointed over me and will support them in every way. When questioned, should I become a prisoner of war, I am required to give name, rank, service number, and date of birth. I will evade answering further questions to the utmost of my ability; I will make no oral or written statements disloyal to my Emperor or our allies, or harmful to their cause. I will never forget that I am an Imperial, fighting for order and justice, responsible for my actions, and dedicated to the principles which made my society safe and secure. I will trust in my Emperor and in the eternal greatness that is the Galactic Empire._

_I am an Officer of the Imperial Navy…_


	4. Chapter 4

  
  
  
_Three days. Three_ karking _days I’ve wasted! And now I have to go back up the other_ fracking _side!_ Frack! Frack! Frack _everything!_

Ben swore in his mind this time, because he was far too tired to yell anymore. 

After the bridge had fallen, he’d spent a solid day pacing about, destroying everything in his path as he searched for another way across the chasm. When he couldn’t find one, he seriously contemplated throwing himself over the side and trusting the Force to save him. Fortunately, his sense of self-preservation was stronger than even his childish, rage-induced tantrums and he settled for taking the long way down. 

Actually a very accomplished climber, he had expected it would be a matter of hours before he reached the bottom, even less if he could just use the Force to hop from one ledge to the next; however, once he started his descent, he found it nearly impossible due to a combination of sheerness and a lack of stable hand holds. He hadn’t even felt safe using the ascension cable in reverse. Much of the cliff face was made of rocks that looked sturdy on first glance, but turned to powder in his hands when he tried to find any kind of purchase on them. 

The result: two days of sleepless descent, his arms burning so much from the strain that when he reached the bottom he had trouble putting them down. 

He sat on a large boulder and kicked his bare feet in the rushing river, glaring over at the twisted wreckage of his failure jutting out from the river’s edge on the other side. He had shouted and sworn so much on the way down, screamed to harness the pain, that he had lost his voice.

And now he had to go back up.

All he wanted was to curl up and sleep for days.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

_I am an officer… of... of… I will…if I become a prisoner…_

_…required to give… rank… number… responsible for my actions… ah!_

Hux swayed on his feet and the shooting pain in his leg jerked him back into wakefulness again. He’d lost count of how many times he’d dozed off. He had no idea how long he had been standing, pummeled by the horrid miasma of sound, or how many times he had repeated the Code in trying to send his mind elsewhere. Every now and then, the door would open, and a guard would dowse him with a bucket of ice water. If he’d counted their shifts correctly, or even been conscious when they did it, he thought it had been a few days at least. For a while he thought he was back in the forest on Alderaan. It was so cold there without any clothes on in the snow. He shivered violently.

_Why am I camping with no clothes on?_ He started to drift again, listing dangerously to one side until the noose caught him and made him gag. _No, ok, no, you’re not on Alderaan. Wake up. Wake up!_

If only he could just lie down. Just for a moment. Just stop the pain. Stop everything.

The screeching noise stopped. He gasped at the immensity of the sudden relief. Hux would have thought himself deaf if it weren’t for the pounding of his pulse in his ears. 

_I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners._

He shouted, his voice louder than he was prepared for, not knowing how much time he would have before it started again, “Hegan? Callum? Are you ok?”

A mix of their voices called back to him at once. “Yes, Sir – Yes, I’m ok – Thank the stars! I can’t—anymore of that! – Sir, are you – Hux, are you ok?”

“Don’t give in! You will pull through this! Remember your training! Don’t lose fai—!”

It started again, seeming much louder after the too brief respite. 

Hux began to tune it out at first, but this time it was music. Not just any music. His favorite Corellian opera: an aria with such beauty that he felt the loneliness of the entire galaxy in the hollows of its harmonies every time he heard it. The singer, Shyria Absaan, a consummate artist from his homeworld of Arkanis, was truly a wonder to behold (and in Hux’s estimable opinion, the finest singer in the universe). But this was all wrong. The volume had been cranked up to distorting levels, and already his ears were ringing. That they should use such precious art to torture him… 

A groan started, low in his throat at first, steadily climbing into a pitiful wail before morphing into a scream of such anger that it matched any he’d ever heard from Ben.

The door opened, and he didn’t even notice the light at first. He’d had so many hallucinations over the past… hours? Days? Weeks? And then he heard the voice in his head, where no amount of sound could drown it out, and knew it was real.

*Don’t you just love this song?*

Ben walked into the cell and, to Hux’s surprise and dismay, shut the door behind him. Hux trembled as much from the cold as the sudden fear of not knowing where Ben was or what he would do next. He tensed, waiting for blows that never came. 

Minutes passed. The aria repeated. _Hours_ passed before he started to let down his guard. He’d been alternating between holding his breath in anticipation and trying to breathe as quietly as he could, but when he realized how foolish he was being he finally allowed himself to exhale. If Ben were truly there in the dark, surely he possessed some means by which he could see Hux. It was just another trick his mind was playing on him.

_I am an Officer of the Imperial Navy. I fight to defend the Empire and our way of life. I am prepared to give my life—_

Something brushed by his hands. He went rigid with fear.

Again, the aria repeated. And again. 

Nothing happened. 

The tiniest whimper escaped his cracked lips. Hux tried valiantly to hold back his tears and quell his terror, but he couldn’t help it anymore. Even if it were a hallucination, he realized he could no longer tell the difference. He felt like he was floating, falling through the darkness, and by the time he felt his fingertips brush against something metal and freezing cold, it was too late. 

Ben grabbed his wrists, wrenched him backwards, forced his left hand flat against some kind of table, and smashed his little finger with something metal like a hammer. Unprepared for the assault, Hux screamed. 

He was not a religious man, but in that moment he dearly wished he had some deity that he could beg for intervention. Ben released his wrists. He wanted to pull away, but his body was so exhausted he slumped backwards and sat on the freezing edge of the table. That there even was a table confused and frustrated him. Had it been there the whole time? Could he have rested if only he’d leaned back further and noticed it sooner? Was it even real? Was any of this?

The splitting pain in his finger was real enough.

*That’s the thing with blindness: you don’t know what’s going to happen next. You want to anticipate the pain, but you can’t see it coming.*

Hux tensed for something then, but again, a maddening amount of time passed. He tried to listen to the song, he tried not listening to the song, he tried to listen _through_ the song for any hint of motion in the room, not knowing which was worse. No matter what he did, he could not be anything but present in this moment with his pain and fear and anticipation.

The table jerked out from under him. He caught himself on the wrong foot, lancing pain up his leg, but Ben held him with an arm around his waist and prevented him from falling and choking. The strangely intimate gesture bewildered and disgusted him. He wanted to shove Ben away, but he was so cold and Ben’s warmth so inviting. He loathed himself for leaning back against the rough-hewn cloak.

He stayed that way for longer than he expected, and when he felt Ben move away and the chill of the room embraced him once more he couldn’t stop shivering. “Please, Ben. Just tell me _why_?” he begged, even though he knew he couldn’t be heard over the blaring music.

Ben took him by the wrists again, and his body locked up in anticipation of more agony, but this time Ben was just doing something to the binders. He also felt the line around his neck slacken. Hux couldn’t suppress the absurd flicker of hope that they were being removed.

A few minutes passed before his arms were yanked back and up behind him, sending him wildly off balance and forcing him to bend over awkwardly to relieve the strain on his arms. Ben had threaded the cable from his collar through some part of the restraints, and now he was forced to take all of his weight on his shoulders as he was hoisted into the air, his toes barely brushing the floor. His finger pulsed, his shoulders burned, his face throbbed anew at the sudden change in position, and all he wanted was to lie down and sleep – just pass out and make it all end. 

Ben’s lightsaber ignited in front of him, blue and too bright, burning the afterimage of his blank, unfeeling mask into Hux’s retina. Ben brought it down, pommel first into his left collarbone. The delicate bone shattered and rent itself apart as the full weight of his body sagged lower. Ben paced in front of him a few times, savoring his gasps and gurgled cries, and then stopped on his right side, once more raising the energy blade high over his head. 

With a hiss, the blade clicked off, casting the room into darkness once more. 

Hux sobbed, “No, no, no, no,” over and over, increasing in intensity as he felt Ben move around behind him and press something firm and warm against his ass. Gloved hands forced his clenched buttocks apart and even in the pitch blackness Hux was overcome with shame at being so exposed and powerless. “Please, Ben, please don’t do this!”

*I want to hear you scream so loud your friends can hear you over the music. I want them to know how much you love this.*

Ben rammed his cock in and Hux bit through his lower lip in an effort to stifle his shriek of agony. Wrapping an arm around Hux’s waist, Ben lifted him up and ground himself against his ass, making sure he was as deep as he could go before pulling back and slamming against him again. His thrusts came faster and so savagely that Hux was certain he would faint, but Ben formed some kind of mind-link with the Force, and through it Hux could feel how Ben luxuriated in his pain. Suspended between his agony and Ben’s ecstasy, torn by guilt over this new degradation, and still somehow in shock that the young man who had loved him so fiercely could revel so fully in his utter destruction, he wanted to scream until he passed out. 

Anger. He had to focus on anger. The unfairness that this should have befallen him when he’d done nothing to deserve it. Ben had taught Hux to use his anger as a meditative focus, and though he hated to do anything in service to the man who was now raping him, concentrating on his righteous indignation helped steel his resolve.

Hux refused to scream. He would _die_ before he cried out and gave Ben what he wanted. He couldn’t suppress the sharp yelps that escaped every time Ben hammered into him, but he would be damned if he cried out for the others to hear.

*Come for me, Hux.* Ben grinned, shifting his hand from Hux’s stomach to his flaccid penis and tugging on it insistently. *I won’t stop until you scream or come. Which will it be?*

At least this time, his body didn’t betray him. 

Hux didn’t know how long he’d been crying, begging, whimpering, feeling Ben’s hands on his back, his hips, his cock, feeling him in his mind, hearing his laughter at prying out memories of their lovemaking, no, I don’t want to see that, so much pain all over, so humiliated, so weak, hands on his chest, his face, in his hair, in his mouth, harsh metallic breaths in his ear, so dirty, so powerless, feeling this burning inside him like he was ripping apart, pleading with him to stop, please stop hurting him, please just stop, he would do anything for it to stop, please, please, please, please. 

He hadn’t even noticed that the music had cut off long ago.

Ben finished inside him with one last, piercing thrust and held himself there until he stopped twitching and started to go soft. When he pulled out, he unfastened the cable and dropped Hux to the ground like so much garbage.


	5. Chapter 5

The river washed around Ben’s feet and he stared off into its eddies and swirls, his mind somewhere else. He had known since he left on his journey that it was a possibility he would miss Hux’s commissioning ceremony, but now that he knew it for a fact he couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sadness. He hadn’t seen Hux in well over half a year, and while the loneliness gave him an edge to his abilities, he didn’t particularly enjoy it. Aside from the various promotions Hux was certain to receive throughout his military career, graduation would be perhaps one of his proudest accomplishments. Armitage had worked hard to be at the top of his class, a year early and holding the same rank as the seniors with whom he would be celebrating. Not only that, he had broken several long-standing records at the Academy: fastest live-fire speeder course time, and quickest and most successful tactical solution to the Bothawui Incident. He had also completely reorganized and improved the Academy’s outdated filing system in his spare time. Taking on the Empire's bureaucracy was impressive enough in its own right. Ben didn’t care much for rank and accolades – that was all insignificant compared to the power of the Force – but they were very important to Hux, and Ben wanted to be there to support him. He even had an excuse to be seen with him in public this time; Anakin was graduating early, too. 

It wasn’t fair.

Their relationship had been secret for so long, not because of society’s views on same-sex partnerships (actually, Ben had heard of only two planets in the entire galaxy where that sort of thing was frowned upon), but because of the Academy’s strict code of conduct. Sex wasn’t _technically_ forbidden, but relationships were deemed too distracting to young cadets, and Ben didn’t want to do anything to compromise Hux’s ambitions. Now that Hux would soon be an officer, though, things would be different. If only he could bring his mother around to the idea...

Ben promised himself that if he kept pressing onward toward his goal, he would reward himself later by trying to establish a telepathic connection to Hux on the day of the ceremony. Hux wasn’t Force-sensitive, in fact he could be downright disdainful of it, but the way this planet served to boost Ben’s powers, he was certain he could manage at least a one-way link. It would be nice to feel someone else’s sense of accomplishment and joy at the realization of their own power. He hadn’t felt such a rush since his mother had defeated Palpatine.

Ben folded his glove back and glanced down at his chrono, which he had programmed not only with the local planetary time but also Coruscant’s. Descending the wall had taken him two days. Scaling it would be harder, perhaps taking him twice as long. If he pushed himself, he could make it to the top by the day of the ceremony.

He sighed and stood up. The longest he had gone without sleep was about two weeks, but that was under controlled and meditative conditions at the Inquisitorius Citadel. This would be much more physically demanding, and already he had not slept for nearly three days, but he had no doubt in his mind that he could do it. After all, there was no such thing as trying.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Hux wondered how much pain a man could take before he died. Surely, he was close. He lay there for an interminable amount of time, willing himself into unconsciousness, but he never thought a being could be so overwhelmed with physical and mental torment and not even be able to sleep. He couldn’t imagine wanting anything more than that simple pleasure right now. He had to get out of his body, away from this place. 

Someone nearby was sobbing. It was a hushed, guarded sound, and it took him some time to realize that it was not his own. _Hegan._

The realization that Ben had played him caused his heart to ache almost as badly as the rest of his body. He _hadn’t_ screamed, but he’d given Ben exactly what he wanted nonetheless: his pathetic mewls and pleas had done more to break his friends’ morale than any amount of shouting ever could. He had failed as a leader. Failed the Empire, failed himself, and worst of all, failed the people in his command. Perhaps his father was right. He was not cut out for this. Or anything.

He scraped up what little courage he could find under the heap of crushing doubt and whispered, “Hegan?”

The crying stopped as she held her breath. She must have thought he was unconscious, or dead.

“It’s alright. Stay strong.”

Hegan cried in earnest at his words. She didn’t say anything by way of reply. Probably, she thought there was nothing that she could say. Hux felt simultaneously ashamed and comforted by the sound of her voice. She was devastated by his mistreatment, but she sounded strong and unharmed, and for that, at least, he could be grateful.

“Have they hurt you?”

“No. No, I’m ok.”

“Callum?”

“He’s—I think he’s asleep.”

“I’m here, Sir,” Callum surprised them both by responding. He wanted to say something comforting, like, _“Don’t worry about us,”_ but the soldier in him knew that it was Hux’s job to worry, and more than that, Hux was relying on the familiarity of that discipline to take his mind off his own pain. Callum didn’t want to make empty promises, either, but he added, “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Hux didn’t believe him, didn’t want to allow himself to hope anymore. It hurt too much. In his current state, he would be a liability to their escape. Though it went completely against his personal desires, he steadied his voice and said, “No. If you get the chance, I _order_ you to leave me behind.”

They both protested at once. “Sir – Hux – no! We would never – can’t leave our own behind!”

He saw no point in lying to them. They had heard everything. They _knew_. “My injuries would only hinder your escape. When you get the chance, take it. That’s an order.”

A long silence followed before they acquiesced, Hegan speaking first. “Yes, Sir.”

Callum spoke up a while later. “Sir, do you know what they want? Have they asked you any questions?”

Hux almost smiled. Callum was a smart soldier, asking just the right questions to support his fellow troops, gather information, and check that Hux had not broken at the same time. He would have been proud to have had Callum aboard his ship someday.

“No. And no, they haven’t.” Hux knew that some amount of conditioning usually preceded interrogations, but this seemed too harsh for that. Too personal. He couldn’t fathom what knowledge he had that could possibly be of any import to anyone. Not knowing what they wanted or why they were putting him through so much was as agonizing as the torture itself, because it meant that beings could be cruel to each other for no reason whatsoever. Of course, he’d always _known_ that, but to _feel_ such a loss of faith in the order of the universe and the ability to reason logically with others… he didn’t know how he could recover from that. Even his father had reasons for the way he treated Hux. 

“I think they must be Grand Admiral Grant’s men,” Hegan chimed in, pulling him out of his self-pity.

Hux didn’t want to share his potentially traitorous thoughts on the matter. That stormtrooper’s serial number – TL-557 – he had seen it before. At the Academy, just days before they had left on their vacation into hell, Hux had seen that trooper helping another carry out crates of electronics. He recalled this in specific detail because he was always reviewing the troops around him, searching out who he would prefer in his command when the time came. The man’s size had gotten his attention; he’d wondered how he’d been able to fit into his armor with his height and build. He had suppressed this memory and tried to forget it, even though he rarely forgot anything. 

The man who had brought him here was an Imperial, but who was he working for?

The trooper was not one of Grant’s people. And anyway, what would the Grand Admiral want with a bunch of cadets? Even one whose father was as well-known as Hux’s? He could have used him as a hostage, Hux supposed, but no. He knew Grant. Not only had he met him personally several times in his childhood, but he had studied the man’s tactics extensively. Even after his seditious act of turning against the Empress, he would never allow something so dishonorable to occur on his watch.

He also knew Ben was fanatically devoted to his mother. Hux couldn’t imagine him betraying her to work for Grant. Then again, he’d always thought Ben loyal to him as well. Maybe this was just some personal vendetta of Ben’s, though Hux couldn’t imagine what he’d ever done to deserve this.

“No,” was Hux’s only answer.

The doors to all three cells clanged open at once. 

Hux cowered from the sudden rush of feet. Four, maybe five troopers crowded in around him. He hadn’t even had time to register that it was real before they started beating him needlessly into submission. Training had prepared him for this kind of blitz tactic, but it hadn’t prepared him for the pain. He curled up tighter, trying to protect his wounds though he knew he should have just gone limp and not resisted. 

They grabbed his arms and hauled him up, wrenching a pathetic cry from him. Dragging him out of the cell and into the blinding brightness of the hall, Hux tried to see what was happening to Hegan and Callum but his pupil constricted hard and fast, causing tears to well up and blur his vision. 

“Hegan!” He called out as they dragged him past her cell, “They’re—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. The electric arc from a force pike scorched his ribs as one of the troopers jabbed him. Even with his eyes squeezed shut, he could see the flashes of energy that rippled through him. He heard a rumbling hum in his head and realized it wasn’t so much the sound of the weapon as the forceful contraction of every muscle in his body. If they didn’t stop, his clenched teeth would crack under the tension.

As cadets, they had trained with stun pikes, the force pike’s lesser cousin, and even those could kill a being with five or six direct hits. They hit him three times before he finally, mercifully passed out.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The river was wild, but not impassable. It wasn’t even very cold, and he was already sopping wet anyway. Ben figured that if he just let it carry him downstream until he could make his way over to a spot that looked easier to ascend, he would expend less energy and waste less time. 

He removed his cloak and outer tunic and rolled them into a bundle, attaching it to his back by winding another torn-off strip of cloth over and under his arms and across his back in a figure-eight. Everything else on him was either water-proof or not easily damaged by moisture. Scanning the riverbed, he decided not to dive in; there were too many hidden edges and stones at random depths. He knew he was in for a good battering, but hopefully he could avoid most large boulders by using the Force to push himself out of harm’s way. 

Lowering himself into the swirling (and surprisingly clear) water feet-first, he floated on his back and let the current carry him away. It was much stronger than he’d anticipated from the banks, and he soon found himself having to actively swim to avoid being swept into fallen boulders. He scanned the cliff side for an ascent with decent hand- and footholds, but by the time he glimpsed one he’d already traveled quite far past it. Rolling over, he began to swim against the current at a diagonal. No longer able to see what was behind him, he caught his ankle on a rock and spun around, disoriented. The current pulled him under and slammed him into another large stone back-first, nearly winding him of the tiny gulp of air he’d managed to take before going under. If he hadn’t had the extra padding of his makeshift pack, he might have broken his spine.

He had to fight to turn himself around. Everything moved in slow motion. One hand after the other he hauled himself back up to the top of the rock and clung to it for a few moments to catch his breath. The river was incredibly strong here, pinning him to the smooth surface of the stone. Every time he turned his head back to get his bearings water rushed over his shoulders and threatened to push him back under. 

Ben’s impatience began to get the better of him. He heard a sound behind him. A guttural, rumbling trill. Instinct told him to go back under and he followed, narrowly avoiding the long claws that slashed just above his head. From below, he saw a long, smooth reptilian body thrashing around the boulder. Ben called his lightsaber to hand and nothing happened.

Shocked and horrified, he spun around in confusion. The creature left off attacking the spot he had been in and swam downstream, but he could see its watery shadow turning to make another attack. He searched the riverbed, frantic, for as long as he dared before pushing off with his feet and the Force. He rocketed past the giant lizard just as it plunged toward him for a second attack. Splashing down only a few meters away from the beast, he couldn’t afford to keep searching. 

Ben let the river take him farther downstream and dove down again. Another boulder embedded in the ground allowed him to brace himself against the flow for a short time. His lightsaber was a relic from the Clone Wars. It had once belonged to the great Jedi General, Obi-Wan Kenobi, after whom he was named. It was a precious and powerful historical artifact, and more than that it was his _life_. His mother would never forgive him for losing it. He looked around again but didn’t see even a hint of metal. In a last ditch effort he closed his eyes and concentrated, staving off panic as long as he could to reach out with the Force and detect its presence.

Just as he began to feel something, strong jaws closed around his middle. He screamed as the needle-like fangs sank deep. The creature lifted him high out of the water, just long enough for him to catch his breath before being slammed down onto the surface of the water to lose it again. Terrified of drowning, he reached down to pry its mouth open. Ben kicked wildly but couldn’t get his legs under him for any leverage. It began to shake him back and forth, churning the water into bloody foam. He lashed out with the first thing he could think of and tried to choke it with the Force, channeling all his fear and pain into hurting the scaly monster. 

It let go. 

Ben gasped for breath as he tumbled end over end downstream, buffeted by the wild current. Clutching his sides, he relied on his feet to kick him in the right direction. In his mind, swears flowed as swiftly and ceaselessly as the river. 

A purple and orange dusk was settling around him by the time he made it to shore. He hauled himself up onto the gravelly bank and collapsed there, coughing and clutching at his wounds. 

“ _Frack!_ ” he yelled, too angry to concentrate. Healing was the one Force skill he couldn’t manipulate as though he’d been born to it, mostly because it required patience and calm and he was rarely either of those things. If he didn’t relax and focus right now, he was going to bleed out in this muddy swamp, unsung and undiscovered for who knew how long. That is, if he didn’t get eaten first.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  * Some side info on Armitage and Ben's relationship in this timeline: Leia isn't opposed to same-sex relationships, she's just worried about securing her place on the throne right now. In Year 16, Ben and his mother have a huge argument over arranged marriages and how he feels that it would be antithetical to his life as a Sith and the Sith Code of following your passions.


	6. Chapter 6

_“Yeah, we thought you’d be pretty shocked. Daddy’s boy isn’t looking so good is he? Looks like he could use a shower.”_

_“Or three.”_

_Laughter._

_“Why don’t you help him out with that then, Rodah?”_

_Hands on his shoulders. Gripping his hair. Lifting him up and forward._

_“No! Leave him alone!”_

_Forcing him down into freezing water._

The jolt brought Hux back to his senses. He struggled in vain against their grip. The water muffled the shouts of his comrades. Someone punched him in his broken ribs, forcing any breath he’d been holding out in a yelp that bubbled up to the surface. He fought every instinct to breathe in for as long as he could. His lungs burned. He inhaled. The water, though frigid, burned like acid on the way in. It felt as though his lungs were being slashed by thousands of hot razors. His heart stuttered from the shock.

Part of Hux’s mind that had always been the detached observer wondered at all the different kinds of pain one could be exposed to. Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly hurt any more than he already did, the universe decided to show him a new world of misery. It hurt _so_ badly. He’d always heard that drowning wasn’t such a terrible way to go.

His chest spasmed, trying to force the liquid out, gasping for air that would not come, sucking in more of the freezing water. They pulled him back up, just shy of death’s kiss, and he almost didn’t have enough strength to cough. He tried breathing in through his nose, but the blood congealed in his sinuses was too thick. The guards pushed him over again, but not into the trough in front of him. Terror brought him the vitality he needed to hack most of the rest of the water out of his lungs. 

Whoever had him by the hair yanked him back onto his knees. He hung there in the guard’s grip and coughed out bloody water, trembling and still rasping for air. Hux reluctantly opened his eye, not wanting to face his fellow officers, but needing to take stock of his surroundings. 

He admired Hegan and Callum’s blank expressions, given how horrific he imagined he must look. They were sat across from him, tied to chairs farther back in the room, away from the wide tub in which they’d dowsed him. Both were clothed in gray tunics and seemed relatively healthy and well-fed. Hux knew that this was a tactic to forge resentment in him, but he was glad they hadn’t been harmed. When they met his gaze he tried to match their stoicism as best he could. 

“Now,” Ben said from somewhere behind him, “something has come to my attention.”

Hux could hear him pacing, like a predator in search of the best angle of attack.

“It seems several of my colleagues here had the pleasure of experiencing your father’s prototype training regimen. It seems they have a few things they’d like to work out in regards to that.”

“He had nothing to do with that!” Hegan yelled.

Hux wanted to shake his head no, to give her some kind of warning sign, but the guards held him firmly. 

“It’s too bad his father can’t be here to enjoy this, but I’ve never been one to deny someone revenge.”

At some signal from Ben, Hux was thrust forward again. He had just enough time to catch his breath before being shoved under. This time he stayed limp, trying to remain calm and preserve his strength. Hux was an accomplished swimmer, and under normal circumstances, he could hold his breath for quite some time. These were about as far from normal circumstances as he could get, though, and after a distressingly short time he felt the pressure building in his chest. He let out half his breath and hoped they would think he was already drowning. 

*It was a good plan,* Ben’s voice fluttered around the edges of his consciousness, *but you forget I can feel everything about you.*

_Ben! Stop this! Please!_

Just as he started to suck in more water, he was pulled back. Almost immediately he was shoved under again. And again. And again. With Ben’s guidance they were able to keep him just on the edge of drowning, and stop just before his heart gave out. Hux’s heart slammed against his chest so hard and so fast he was certain it would explode from the stress. 

Perilously close to begging out loud, he heaved and slumped against the men who held him. They had left him a gagging, shaking, sobbing mess, but Hux couldn’t help feel the keen irony of how badly he needed a drink of water. 

Between deep, hacking coughs he demanded, “Ben, why are you doing this?”

Hegan and Callum couldn’t hide their momentary shock at hearing Hux call the Prince by his first name.

Ben noticed their change in demeanor and laughed, a sinister chuckle. “Your friends don’t know about us, do they? Not even your bunk mate? How you beg for my dick every time you see me?”

Hux stayed quiet, though more out of confusion than embarrassment. Of course no one knew about their relationship. They had both agreed to keep it secret from everyone because it was against Academy policy. Ben _knew_ that.

“Why don’t you show them, now?”

“I beg your pardon,” Hux scoffed.

“Oh, you’ll beg.”

“You disgust me.”

“On your knees.”

One of the troopers yanked him up by his hair and held him as Ben walked around and stood in front of him.

“Beg for it. Or I’ll drown one of them while you watch, and then I’ll fuck you over their corpse.”

Callum exhaled in disbelief. Hegan gasped. “Leave him alone!” she growled, “Haven’t you hurt him enough?”

“Hegan, don’t—” Hux warned.

Ben stayed where he was but turned toward her. “Interesting question, girl.” He looked down at Hux. “Do you think I’ve hurt you enough?”

“ _Frack_ you,” Hux spat.

“Yes, we’ll get to that,” he laughed. “How about you, boy?” he said to Callum, “You’ve been awfully quiet. Could it be that you don’t wish to offer yourself up in your commander’s place, like a good little soldier?”

Callum was angry, but he was more afraid. He glared at the prince and remained silent.

“I’m feeling generous today. I’ll let one of you go if you hurt him.”

In unison, Callum and Hegan chanted, “I will accept no special favors from the enemy. If I become a prisoner of war, I will keep faith with my fellow prisoners. I will give no information nor take part in any action which might be harmful to my comrades.”

Hux looked up at them both, his eye filled with tears of immense gratitude and relief. Ben had made a mistake putting the three of them together again. They would be harder to break when they could inspire each other to defiance. Though he was exhausted and wracked with constant pain, Hux’s heart swelled with renewed pride and bravery. 

“Oh, well said.” Ben’s languid applause dripped with sarcasm. “Such grand platitudes. I wonder how well they will stand up to reality? Perhaps I’ve been too soft on you. Perhaps you require a demonstration of what happens to those who defy me.”

Ben raised a hand and Hux rose into the air. His binders clicked off and clanked to the ground. Hux groaned as much in relief as renewed pain at the sudden freedom. He reached up to his injured shoulder and gingerly felt the dislocated joint and swelling around his collarbone.

“Don’t you touch him!” Hegan shouted.

“I don’t have to.”

Ben curled his fingers and Hux expected to start choking. Instead, he felt a growing pressure around his right hand. Instinctively he held it behind his back, as though hiding it would somehow protect it. 

Ben’s fingers slowly closed inward, increasing the strain. Hux fought to stay silent, clenching his teeth and breathing heavily. When his bones started to crack and split, one by one, he tried to curl around his hand defensively and bit down on a long, high-pitched whine.

“Stop it!” Callum yelled, partially out of his own rising fury and partially to help cover the sound of Hux’s whimpers, “Why are you even doing this? What has he done? What do you want?”

Ben’s hand closed completely into a fist and Hux cried out in agony, his hand a sudden mass of splintered bones jutting out at unnatural angles.

“This is what I want,” he tilted his head up to savor the almost visible waves of pain and fear emanating from Hux. “His terror. His agony. Waiting for the death of that last spark of hope. You want to die so badly, don’t you? Ah,” he drew in a quick breath, and shivered with pleasure, “there it is. Yes. The _shame_. You want to die and leave them to me. You don’t care at all what happens to them, so long as all this pain stops.”

“No!” Hux cried, “That’s not true!” though he feared that it might be.

“They can’t use the Force, but they know of it. They know I can sense your feelings. They know I’m telling the truth.”

“You’re a liar!” Hegan screamed, tears spilling down her cheeks, “You don’t know him at all! He was in so much pain, and—and he was worried about _us_! He put us before his own suffering!”

“So noble, Armitage.” Ben floated him closer and reached up to brush his thumb over Hux’s trembling lips. “What other lies have come out of this filthy whore’s mouth of yours? Did you tell them how it helped you climb the ranks so quickly at the Academy?”

“How _dare_ you!” Hux hissed, agony morphing into righteous fury. No one had ever questioned his honor, nor had he ever given anyone reason to. He hoped Callum and Hegan didn’t believe it, though the fact of their illicit relationship’s existence had already cast doubt upon him. “I earned _everything_ I ever did!” he shrieked, spittle flying as he enunciated each word. “You know damned well my father treated me _no_ differently from his recruits! I suffered _everything_ to be where I am! You have _nothing_ over me, Ben Organa! _Nothing!_ You can ruin my body and my mind, but you will _never_ take my honor!”

Ben said nothing. He swayed as Hux railed against him, shuddering in delight. His shoulders shook with suppressed but building laughter.

“I hate you!” Hux screamed, louder and louder over Ben’s laughter until he just couldn’t anymore. He hung in the air, exhausted, helpless, and sobbing.

Without a word, Ben turned and walked out, letting Hux fall. He crumpled to the floor in a heap, unable to catch himself. Two guards descended on him immediately, slashing him with their vibroknives even though he had no intention of resisting. One grabbed him by the hair again and twisted him backwards, holding a knife to his throat. 

“Now it’s our turn, you little—” 

A commotion outside made the troopers pause and turn toward the door, listening. Hux could hear blasters, and the sound of heavy footfalls fast approaching over the hum of a lightsaber in action. The two guards dropped him and hurried out the door, blasters at the ready. Agonizing over what to do, the third trooper eyed Hux suspiciously for a few moments more before deciding that whatever was happening outside was more of a threat than the broken boy at his feet. 

The second the door slid into place, Hux was in motion. Slowly, achingly, he used his good arm and leg to inch over to where Callum and Hegan were tied up. They watched him anxiously, wanting to shout encouragements, but neither of them knowing how he could do anything to free them with his mangled hand and useless arm. Hux didn’t know either, but he had to try. 

Callum’s arms were tied to the chair by a few loops of molytex fibercord, with the knot located just under the armrest. Hux pushed himself up, panting, and gnawed at the knot with his teeth. At this point he would break them off if he had to. Callum wiggled his arm back and forth and eventually helped loosen the knot. Once he was free, Hux slumped against the chair, this time fighting against unconsciousness. Something going right for once was an alien feeling, and he wanted to see how it played out.

His fellow officer freed his other arm, and reached over to unfasten one of Hegan’s bonds before returning to work on the ties around his ankles. Hux wanted to help, but he was done in. He felt the aloof spectator part of himself taking over, trying to shield him from despairing over the decision he had to make. The sounds of the skirmish grew more heated. A lone force pike stood in the corner, and Hegan snatched it up, snarling and spoiling for a fight as it arced to life. There were no other weapons in the room. Callum started toward him. With no guarantee they would be saved, Hux gathered his courage and commanded, “Leave me. Assist Hegan. That’s an order.”

His comrades gave him one final, tear-filled look and nodded. “Yes, Sir!”

The door slid open and two of the retreating guards tumbled in, backs turned, not expecting to meet any resistance from the two terrified and _very_ angry cadets. Callum was on top of one before he could even turn around, ripping off his helmet and pummeling him viciously with it. The last thing Hux saw before the darkness claimed him was the satisfying crunch of Hegan’s force pike being rammed through the other trooper’s face.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ben drifted in and out of consciousness as he tried to heal himself.

_I’m gonna die here. I’m gonna die on this_ fracking karkhole _of a planet_. His moans of frustration and pain turned into hysterical chuckles. _Oh,_ frack _it hurts_. When he noticed the holorecorder on his belt had been knocked into the on position, he couldn’t stop laughing. Of course that had survived the encounter. His lightsaber was gone, but he still had his trusty recorder to document the mess his life had become. “Oh, _frack_ me, Tage. I’m gonna die here and you’ll never even get to laugh at what a colossal _frack-up_ I’ve been.”

Thinking of Hux made him feel a little better, and he realized the key to his state of mind was finding something pleasant to focus on. He closed his eyes and thought about their first time together, the furtive touches and anxious panting of two boys afraid of getting caught. Those hurried kisses in the dark as they clumsily but insistently stroked one another to orgasm. It was awkward yet beautiful at the same time, and it filled him with such a sense of belonging he could feel the Light connecting to him and beginning to move through him. He wanted to hate himself for it, but there was no one here who could judge him, so he opened his heart the way he had with Armitage and allowed the spark to ignite long abandoned powers.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tiny, sharp needle pricks brought Hux to the surface of a drug-induced haze. It was bright where he was, and though he was aware of his pain, it was as though he were floating above it like some semi-detached spirit. He was in a troop transport, laid out on an emergency evac stretcher. He groaned.

“Sorry, Sir,” Callum said, and finished field-stitching the deep slashes on his arm. “We used up all the Bacta on your other injuries. Had to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“I’m not dead?”

“No, Sir. We got away. Grand Admiral Daala’s troops found us. You’re going to make it. Just hang on. It’s just a few more hours home.”

Hux smiled weakly. “Thank you, Callum,” he whispered as he rode a wave of relief back down into oblivion. One thought troubled him, though. He tried to cling to it, to make sense of it, but it unraveled in his grasp as he passed out. _But those weren’t Grant’s people, and Grand Admiral Daala is loyal to the Empress…_


	7. Chapter 7

When Ben woke in the morning, he was amazed that he hadn’t been eaten. Gingerly, he sat up and inspected his wounds through the shreds of his tunic. He was whole again, but the flesh was still bruised and tender where it had been punctured. On the other side of the river, a small family group of those huge lizards observed his movements. They didn’t seem hostile at the moment, so he lay back down to think. 

_Well, I’ll never make it up there now._ He sighed, staring at the cliff that loomed above him, seeming taller than ever. _Fraaaaaaaaaaack._

He would just have to do what he always did in these situations: follow his instincts. Sure, it may have gotten him into a predicament or two, but he was alive, wasn’t he? He had a destiny, and he would be damned if a little strife got in his way. He pulled a soggy ration bar out of a pouch on his belt, held it in his mouth while he pushed himself off the ground, and started walking.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Darkness, pure and unrelenting, greeted Hux when he opened his eye.

He thought, at first, that he had died, but then the various torments of his physical body came flooding back into his drug-addled consciousness. He wasn’t just dreaming and he wasn’t blind, at least, he hoped not. His hands were cuffed and shackled above him, and _oh frack_ the pain was unbearable. Even far above his heart, losing circulation, his hand throbbed.

_No. How?_

“Hegan? Callum?” he called out, an unchecked high note of panic in his voice.

“Yes, Sir?” Callum answered almost immediately. 

“What… Where…” Hux chided himself for talking before he knew exactly what he wanted to say. The dread thought that he had lost his mind had pushed him to speak, and he should not have let it control him. “How did we get back here?”

“…Sir? I don’t take your meaning.”

Hux was confused. He shouldn’t have said anything. He must have blacked out and imagined the whole escape as a means of coping. They must have tortured him again and he cracked. It was the only logical explanation. This time, logic wasn’t much of a comfort. His heart felt as heavy as his eyelids. 

“Sorry. I’m just… a little light headed. Are you alright?”

“Fine, Sir. Have you eaten anything?”

Just the mention of food made his stomach feel as empty as the cluster of black holes in the Maw. “No.”

“Then I’ll refrain as well, Sir.”

“No. Don’t do that. You need your strength to escape. Are you still unharmed?”

“Well, they roughed me up a little, maybe a few days ago, but only because we tried to get out.”

_So that_ did _happen_. _But what about the ship? What about our rescuers?_ Hux turned his arm ever so slightly and felt the tug of the stitches. The fact that he could move his left arm at all was testament to the fact that someone had cared for him enough to slip it back into socket. _I was there! It was real! But how did we get back here? Were we recaptured in hyperspace?_

“When you say you tried to escape… What happened?”

“Sir,” he hesitated, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“No… No, I— Sorry, I think they drugged me. I can’t remember.”

Callum was silent for a long time.

“Where is Hegan? Why hasn’t she answered?”

“Sir… Hegan is… She was killed, Sir.”

Hux inhaled sharply. The coldness in his chest made him feel as though he were drowning all over again. _No. That can’t be. She was just here!_ “How? When?” he started to lose his fraying temper, scared that he was going insane, “Tell me what happened, Callum.”

Before he could answer, the screeching alarm started up again and drowned out Hux’s scream of frustration. His cry turned to bitter weeping as the realization dawned on him: the sounds issuing from the speakers this time were screams. Shrieks of agony so intense they barely registered as human. And they were Hegan’s.

The door slid open. Two troopers flanked Ben as he entered, lazily trailing a whip along the floor. Wicked shards of embedded transparisteel glittered between the folds of leather.

*I hope you had pleasant dreams.*

Hux closed his eye and braced himself for the nightmare to begin again. _It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s no—_

*You once told me you wished you could be rid of the marks your father left on you. I’d like to think we could help you with that.*

Ben passed the whip to one of the guards and leaned in the doorway to watch.

The trooper cracked the whip a few times, testing its length. They all shared a laugh as Hux cringed and tensed. 

Of all the sounds he’d been tormented with, this one put him exactly where Ben wanted him. One snap of a whip and Hux was 8 years old again, stripped to his skinny waist and tied to the stocks in front of the other kids who were training at his father’s academy. He had found an injured eopie on one of his jungle treks, and dared to bring it home and nurse it back to health in secret. Pets were forbidden. Weakness was forbidden, and kindness was just weakness waiting to be exploited. No son of Brendol Hux’s would be some soft-hearted sap, or make a mockery of his good name. And Armitage had learned, even earlier in his life, that crying would only make things worse. So he clenched his jaw and made no sound now, as he had back then and every time since.

The scars on his back offered some small measure of protection against the first several lashes, but soon the transparisteel hooks had ripped through his flesh and into the exposed nerves. He bit down harder on his back teeth and held his breath.

On that day, he had endured 12 stripes before passing out. Later that evening, his back still raw and bleeding through his bandages, he had been forced to sit at the dinner table and eat eopie stew while his father watched. His lip trembled. He sniffled. But, he dared not cry. He ate every last drop, never once looking away from his father’s gaze, hoping he felt every hateful second of it. Now, he gave Ben that same glare.

This time, he made it through 34 before losing consciousness. He wished his father had been there to see it.


	8. Chapter 8

Ben had hiked along the banks of the river for a day and a half before he found a cave in the side of the cliff. He wanted to pass it by, sensing danger and thinking it just a dead-end den for some other creature that would try to devour him, but something in it called to him. The same ghostly whispers that had often passed unnoticed through the rustling leaves of the rainy jungle had grown stronger in the last day or so. Now they sounded more like the moan of an autumn gust that stirred papery, withered leaves – the macabre sibilance of a thousand jealous Sith lords who had been cheated out of their rise to power.

He had lost the only light he thought he would ever need, and hadn’t bothered to bring a backup. The muted green display of his chrono was too weak to reveal anything in his path, and would be more of a distraction than any actual use, so he pulled the cuff of his glove over it more firmly. Sighing, he headed into the dark maw.

After walking for only a few minutes, feeling along the smooth walls as he went, he was encapsulated by the utter blackness around him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the ghostly images the Force showed him. Tiny sparkles of life – some lichen here, a small insect there – gave the barest of outlines to the dank cavern. Ben walked with more confidence at the lack of any sign of larger lifeforms.

The winding maze continued onward, occasionally narrowing, but always with enough clearance for him to remain standing. Powerful vibrations of Dark Side energy pulled him ever onward, past his fatigue. He knew somehow that this cavern led inexorably toward his destination, so he continued on without sparing a thought for his weariness. 

Feeling the persistent gnaw of hunger in his stomach, he spared a brief glance down at the weak light of his chrono. He’d been making his way through the cave for just over a standard day already. Surprised, he devoured another nutrition bar and took a moment to rest. Hux’s ceremony would be starting in just a few hours. This wasn’t the optimal place to try to establish a mind-link, but it was better than it could have been. He munched dejectedly on his ration bar and imagined what Hux was doing right now. _No doubt scrutinizing his appearance in a mirror, fussing over the position of every thread of his uniform and every strand of hair. Everything had to be_ perfect.

Ben smiled to himself, thinking about how handsome Armitage would look in his dress whites, and knowing that Hux would never allow himself to acknowledge Ben’s approval. Appearances were of utmost importance to Armitage, and he could be so harsh on himself. Ben knew that it had more to do with insecurity than Tage would ever admit – he was always on the thin side, no matter how much he ate or trained – but also because Hux knew how to use that formality of dress to exude authority. Ben could understand that; he didn’t have to work nearly as hard to look imposing given his height and musculature, and his ability to intimidate others with his dark presence, but he spent a great deal of his free time designing and making outfits to impress. His talents had even earned him a reputation amongst the fashion elite of Coruscant. 

There would be a sumptuous ball at the Imperial Palace afterwards for all the top graduates, and anyone who was anything of importance on Coruscant would be there, showing off a fabulous display of opulence. Ben had cut his own robes for the event in a striking but simple take on Alderaanian elegance. In all black, though. Naturally. He might have even acquiesced to a dance if it meant he could finally show off the stately young man at his side. All eyes would be on them – Ben, for the void he created in the swaths of precious, glittering stones, and Hux, for the grace and power of his movements. 

  
  


Ben sighed in both pleasure and frustration at the image. Even though he didn’t enjoy socializing as much as his brother, Ben rarely missed the opportunity to turn heads at a high-society function. 

The alarm on his chrono beeped, muffled by his glove but still loud in the otherwise silent cavern, and he clicked it off as he settled into a comfortable meditative position. Suspecting that he’d be riled up over something or other when the time came, Ben had given himself extra time to get into the proper state of relaxation and concentration required for such an attempt. As close as he was to the Sith ruins, he didn’t need as much time as he’d thought. The complete darkness was almost as empowering as the bone-chilling energies that surrounded him in this place. He had no trouble at all visualizing space and time bending to the will of the Force – _his_ will – and placing his mind in the destination of his choosing. 

He could see the Grand Hall from above, as though it lay below a thin mist. By now Hux would be stock still with perfect military posture, yet casting nervous looks about the room like the rest of his fellow cadets, searching out the presence of his friends and family in the audience. He hoped Hux would feel him there, and not be too disappointed when he didn't see him. Ben attuned himself to Armitage’s unique Force signature so that he could move his ghostly form closer and remain more firmly in rooted in the moment.

Hux wasn’t there.

Anakin stood in front of the third chair in the front row, as his class ranking indicated. He frowned slightly and looked around as Ben’s consciousness drifted closer to the stage. The first and second places were jarringly empty, save for a single Velanie flower with a black ribbon tied around its stem on each seat. Glancing about in confusion, Ben saw several other empty seats with the same arrangements. Holoprojectors on the floor in front of the chairs projected pre-recorded, life-sized images of the deceased standing at attention in their formal uniforms.

The joy he had expected to feel soured to grief and shock. Sensing the emotional spike, Anakin looked upward in surprise. *Ben?*

The vision blurred and he felt himself losing his grasp on it, trying desperately to hang on to Anakin’s mental link as he floated upward with increasing speed. *Ani! What—*

A whirlwind of dark energy spun the hall out of focus, and then Ben was falling, being pulled through the kilometers of floors of the megastructure, downward into the shadowy, frightening depths of the Coruscant Underworld. He didn’t understand what was happening. There was still a connection of some kind, but to whom, or what, he didn’t know. He descended more and more rapidly, well past any of the seedy bars and parlors he had once entertained himself in, downward into a terrifying pitch blackness. In his fear, he almost broke the connection, but held on until the last second, realizing that this was where Armitage was, and that the fear he felt was as much Hux’s as his own.

The burst of anguish that flooded over him in that final moment was like none he had ever experienced. So perfect was Armitage’s agony, degradation, and despair that it enervated and sickened him, rather than empowering him as it should have. He screamed out Tage’s name in his mind and in the echoing confines of the stone cavern as he snapped back into reality.

Ben swayed on his knees and lurched forward, vomiting.

He could still feel the ghost of Hux’s pain decaying inside him like rotting flesh. 

_What the frack, what the frack, what the frack?_

He had to move. He had to do _something_.

Ben found himself on his feet, but with nowhere to go his legs twitched in nervous anxiety. He paced back and forth, mind and heart racing.

_Must go. Must leave._

_No._

_Stop._

_Think. For once in your life, think!_

He took a quivering breath and hugged himself, trying to banish the vile chill that had overcome him. Armitage’s life depended on his ability to control himself right now, and the thought sobered him like no other. 

_I’m weeks away from my shuttle. I have no weapon. I am of no use to him like this. Even if I ran right now, I wouldn’t —_ No. He wouldn’t allow himself to finish that thought. 

His goal was so near. Perhaps less than half a day’s walk away. 

_I need to complete my mission_. The understanding came much more easily than the acceptance.

With an artifact of such power he would at least have a weapon of sorts. He hoped.

_Trust in the Force. It will serve and guide you._

Ben plunged ahead into the caverns, harangued by the hisses of otherworldly laughter all around him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ben was inside him again, violating him even as he faded in and out of consciousness. He was there in Hux’s mind, too, seemingly ever present and on a relentless quest to pry out the few pleasant memories Hux had ever had, staining them with the foulness of his touch and leaving Hux with nowhere to retreat. Constant pain had become the baseline of his existence, and every time he thought it couldn’t become any more unbearable, Ben came up with something even more insidious.

Even the brief periods of respite he was allowed, now much shorter and further in between, only made his torment worse. It was during those times that he remembered he was a human being and should never have been made to feel so degraded. He couldn’t escape the horrifying betrayal that men of the Empire, his fellow soldiers, had either been complicit or stood by in silence while all of this happened: watching a seventeen year old boy being tortured and never once showing remorse or even pity. He wasn’t some animal, despite the deplorable conditions in which he now wallowed. He’d had a life before this, and aspirations; now, everything seemed so distant, as if this were the whole of his existence and his past life just a dream. It was just as well. He would never escape this. He would never be what he once was.

Ben clawed at the tattered remains of the skin on Hux’s back, sending sharp waves of fresh pain up his spine. He couldn’t stop the involuntary gasp that followed. He was too weak to pull away and too worn out to care.

Hux had given up struggling; it only served to prolong his agony and provide Ben with more sadistic pleasure. He had already screamed until his throat was so raw and swollen he couldn’t manage anything more than ragged, voiceless panting. Concentrating on every shallow breath, hoping that each one would be his last, he startled when someone called out to him in a panic. 

He had heard it clearly. The quality of the sound differed from those of his hallucinations, and, although Ben was already in his mind, he would have sworn the voice was Ben’s.

With a grunt, Ben pulled out and stepped away from him. The invasion of his thoughts ceased as well. Hux didn’t bother opening his eye even though the lights had been left on for some time now, both to keep him awake and to increase his humiliation at the awareness of the filth he was forced to stand in. When he had regained consciousness after the whipping, Ben had had the guards hold him still while he pierced his already injured eye with three long needles. Then he left them there, so that the slightest movement of Hux’s good eye brought on waves of nausea and stabs of pain.

He heard Ben readjust his robes in silence then stomp away, the door clanging shut behind him as though it had been slammed. Unless this was some entirely new trick, the other voice had been real. But then who was this? Hux couldn’t allow himself to hope again. Giving up was the only way he had endured this much. But feelings were not rational, and he couldn’t reason them away no matter how empty he wanted to be.

The door opened again some time later, and Hux relaxed a bit when he heard the familiar dull clank of a bucket being set down. He didn’t have to look to know it was the Rodian woman who sometimes brought him water on her shift. Unlike the others, who had always thrown the freezing water on him, she dumped the bucket out at his feet, washing away some of the mess he’d made. Hux felt her reach up and fiddle with his binders, and heard the zip of the cable being released and rewound above him. She had never touched him before, so when he felt the sticky suction pads of her fingers reach up under his arm and around his waist he tensed up.

“ _Yatuka hagwa_ ,” she said, softly yet with authority.

She had never spoken to him before either, but he had no reason to distrust her, so he did as she said and remained still as she lowered him to the ground. The movement pained him, but he tried to keep quiet as he understood she was not trying to hurt him. 

A new, metallic crinkling sound made him dare to open his eye a crack, and he saw that she was looking over her shoulder as she unfolded an emergency thermal blanket from the supply pack on her belt. Her antenna twitched in agitation as she settled it over him and fished in another pouch for a stim injector. She held the cylinder to his shoulder and depressed the button, and with a soft hiss relief flooded through him, stripping his pain away in layers until it was just a dull background pulse. She pulled her canteen from her belt and lifted his head. “ _Upyay_ ,” she said.

And drink he did. The cool liquid felt so good on his parched and swollen tongue. Even though it burned like the Nine Hells to swallow, he gulped down what little she was able to give him.

Hux had thought it was simply her assignment to keep him minimally alive, but when he saw that she nursed him from her own canteen he realized with deep shame that she had been acting of her own accord this entire time. Where his own kind had gleefully participated in his degradation, here was this _alien_ helping in whatever way she could to ease his suffering, and at great risk to her own life. Though he had never been as racist as his father or his fellow Imperials, he was ashamed that he had supported a regime that claimed all other species to be barbaric and inferior. 

Overwhelmed by her incredible act of compassion, his shoulders shook with hitching sobs as he tried to express his gratitude. There was no word for thanks in Huttese, so he said it in her native tongue, “ _Solpayki_.”

Her snout wiggled in a Rodian approximation of a worried smile and she soothed him as she would a child, smoothing his hair back and pulling the blanket up to his chin. “ _Asuuna, asuuna…_ Rest, now. There isn’t much time.”

Hux soon drifted off in a medicated haze. He had forgotten what it was like to be relatively free of pain. Even the cold, hard floor felt as comfortable as his own bed after standing for so long. He knew it couldn’t last, but he was still surprised when he felt himself being lifted up once more. He could have sworn he had just closed his eye.

At least the painkiller hadn’t worn off yet. He fought against his desire to protest, to beg for more time, but he couldn’t bring himself to take advantage of her kindness. It must have been the end of her shift, and she couldn’t chance that the next guard, or Ben, would find him asleep on the ground. He groaned slightly and tried to keep his balance as his arms were once more shackled and hiked up above him.

The woman made a small noise of apology.

Hux realized he didn’t even know her name. He had accepted that the only escape he would have would be his death, and he didn’t want to die alone. To know that there had been one person who cared for him, even among his enemies, would ease his sense of desolation. He hoped he was being polite enough when he mumbled, “ _Imataq sutiyki?_ ”

“ _Pedroqa sutiymi_ Doona.”

He found it difficult to focus, but he worked to make his lips form the proper phrase of gratitude, “ _Alquono deg apprefaron_ , Doona.”

“ _Hinallatapas._ ” 

Hux couldn’t be sure, but he thought he felt the warmth of her smile as she turned to go.


	9. Chapter 9

When Ben opened his eyes again, he could just make out a faint, dusty light at the end of the tunnel. Rubble obscured the exit, but he brushed it aside with the Force as though the huge stones were nothing more than pebbles. 

The natural cave gave way to a huge chamber of ancient Sith design. Even pressed for time, Ben stopped and stared in veneration of the towering architecture. In the ceiling, a circular opening allowed what little sunlight there was to filter down and illuminate a lone statue. The stonework had eroded and smoothed under thousands of years of ceaseless rain, and here and there tiny, twisted weeds and vines budded from cracks, but Ben could still make out the form of a female Sith lord, backed by a hulking, hideous beast covered in hooks and spines. _A terentatek_ , he recalled. 

Behind the statue stood a stone altar atop a tiered dais; something there called to him, pulling him toward it like a magnet the closer he came. Ben approached the altar with sincere reverence and knelt at its base. Before him, five small stones, each carved with glyphs of power representing the Sith Code, rested in a small reliquary. Two of the runes were out of order, which probably explained the fragments of ancient bone scattered about the dais. Ben carefully lifted it, using the Force, and swapped it into its correct place.

He closed his eyes, allowing the eerie peace of the dark vestibule seep into him. Once he was in the proper mindset, he began reciting the Sith Code in its original language and felt the power of the words surge through him:

_“Nwûl tash._  
Dzwol shâsotkun.  
Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk.  
Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan.  
Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha.  
Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak.  
Wonoksh Qyâsik nun.”

As he spoke, a deep rumble filled the room. Behind the altar, between two carved pillars of blackest gemstone, a whirling portal appeared. Lightning flashed in swirls of purple mist, and the stench of burning flesh and sulfur emanated from within. The terentatek growled and pulled itself, with viciously clawed hands, from the depths of some unimaginable hell. 

Ben stood. He faced the creature, in awe of its raw strength and power, but unafraid. Its chitinous, red exoskeleton glittered in the darkness. Wicked horns and spikes extended from every segment of its armored body. The creature leaned close and inhaled the lingering scent of Hux’s fear and pain that still hovered at the back of his mind. Its eyes burned with the cold fire of hatred as it regarded its summoner and master, tail swishing in agitation and anticipation of violence. 

This would do. This would do very well.

“ _Qoritut tsawak!_ ” Ben commanded, banishing the demonic creature. It dissipated in a swirl of shadow, and with a booming howl of rage that shook the walls and caused a cloud of dust and rock chips to rain down on him. 

Mother would be very pleased.

He reached down to gather the runes into a soft, black cloth and noticed that underneath three of the shallow alcoves in which they had rested, a trio of red kyber crystals glowed. One for passion, one for strength, and one for freedom. Whoever had come before had taken the ones for power and victory, which explained why the runes had been put back in the wrong place. His hand immediately went to the one under the strength rune, but something about it didn’t feel right. He took a calming breath to still his excitement and closed his eyes again, allowing his hand to hover above the crystals, reaching out to them through the Force to find the one that was meant for him. This was not something to be decided lightly. His lightsaber was his life, and this one would truly be _his_.

In his mind, brief flickers of his future self showed him the consequences of the three choices. None of the visions were long enough for him to infer any predictions about the course of his life, but he could feel what advantages and disadvantages each of the crystals would confer upon him. Though he craved strength and power, and freedom most of all, he found his attention pulled to the first of the doctrine’s tenets.

Passion. It was his nature. _Through passion, I gain strength._ He could not deny that truth.

He opened his eyes and called the passion crystal to his hand. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was cracked. He frowned in dismay, but this was the choice he had made. It was the choice the Force had made. 

It was the only choice.

He sighed and pocketed it, along with the runes, in a secure belt pouch. Now, to find a forge. Ben knew from his studies that most sacred Sith temples such as this contained a saber forge nearby for newly minted acolytes to take their first steps into apprenticeship. A cursory search of the grounds turned up nothing, but most of the rooms and halls adjoining the main temple had collapsed. 

Frustration sparked the flashpoint within him and he lashed out at the piles of rubble that barred his way. What normally would have been a whirlwind of mostly childish, impotent rage resulted instead in tons of fallen blocks and statuary being pulverized instantaneously as he closed his fists. His power, already magnified by the planet itself, found focus in the temple. It was the difference between a beam of sunlight and the main cannon of the Death Star firing. Ben gasped as the stones exploded and disintegrated beneath his fury and marveled at the power of the Dark Side.

Confidence and purpose renewed, he stalked down the newly emptied hallways in search of his goal. He only needed to clear a few to find the room he was looking for.

Inside, another large, carved stone altar glowed with the power of a holocron concealed within. Shelves, tables, and crates held bits of dull metals and other necessary components for the creation of a lightsaber. Ben sifted through them quickly, relying on intuition and his knowledge of exactly what he was looking for to save time. Not only had he decided on his Sith name in his youth, but also the exact design of his future lightsaber. He laid out all the parts on the altar and closed his eyes, relying solely on the Force to guide the interlocking pieces together, thinking of nothing but how powerful he would someday become, the embodiment of terror that his image would strike into those who had the misfortune of seeing his blade ignite.

He felt the final click of the pieces come together and snatched up the hilt in anticipation. Turning it around in his hands, he smiled and finally let his mind wander back to Hux and what Ben was now going to do to _anyone_ who had _anything_ to do with hurting him. 

He switched his lightsaber on, and barely managed to drop it in time as the blade screeched out from the hilt, shooting far past the boundary of the arc limiter and exploding the hilt in a shower of heated metal. Most of it he was able to deflect with the Force, but he hissed as one piece shot past his face, slicing and burning him from his jaw to the bridge of his nose and narrowly missing his eye.

“ _Frack!_ ” he swore, holding one hand to his face while he dropped to his knees to search the debris for his crystal. If it had been destroyed in the explosion…

“Oh,” he exhaled in relief, finding that the crystal – though still cracked – was otherwise intact. “Thank the _karking_ stars.” He turned the crystal around, inspecting it carefully. It still radiated heat even through his thick leather gloves. 

This crystal burned as passionately as its namesake. It was probably too potent to even be used for proper lightsaber construction. Ben recalled one of the designs he had seen from the Battle of Malachor; a vented, cross-guard hilt that would help diffuse the energy of the crystal within, and keep the blade to a reasonable length. He had often dreamed of holding a blade that powerful, but legend said that all crystals of that magnitude had been lost after the Great Purge. He grinned, no more able to contain his glee than the inferior hilt had been able to contain the crystal’s power. With this saber, he would destroy everything that stood in his path.

Again, he assembled the required pieces and picked it up. He turned the hilt over and over in his hands, testing the balance. This one was longer, too, able to be wielded comfortably with one or two hands. The entire weight of a lightsaber rested in the hilt; the blade, being pure energy, weighed nothing.

The moment of truth.

He clicked the power on, and the blade hissed and sputtered out of the three openings. It flickered wildly, occasionally spitting sparks away from the vents and the main blade, but it held stable. It was just the nature of the crystal, he supposed. He moved it side to side, approving of the steady but much louder and deeper hum. Long hours of daily practice would be needed to adjust his technique to the new design, but already he could see the advantages of the smaller flames of energy bursting from the vents.

Ben found a few fallen blocks on which to test the efficacy of his new blade, and smiled approvingly at the damage he could now inflict. He made a few small adjustments to the emitter and stabilizing ring, but was overall greatly satisfied by his creation.

_Now. Now they will_ fracking _pay._

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sounds of a skirmish outside his cell pulled Hux from his not-quite sleep. He could hear blasters, and lightsabers clashing just down the corridor. The door to Callum’s cell crashed open, and he heard what he was certain was Ben’s voice screaming, “Where is he?”

Callum made a bewildered sound.

“Where is Hux?”

Now it was Hux’s turn to be confused. 

More blaster fire erupted, obscuring whatever they said next. A tense few minutes of fighting followed, closing in on Hux’s location. The pain of opening his eye to see what was going on nearly made him black out; the painkiller had worn off long ago. He clung to consciousness, balanced between not daring to hope, and being unable to fully suppress it. The door slid open, and Callum was there, shooting down into the corridor. Behind him, deflecting blaster bolts with his whirling, blue lightsaber, was Ben.

Ben strode into the room and held his lightsaber back as if to strike. Hux cringed. 

“Tage, it’s me. I’m getting you out of here.”

If Hux had any tears left, he would have cried. Not because he was happy, or even believed what was happening, but because he was so tired and confused. If this was how they were going to execute him, he was just grateful it would all be over. _Just do it, already._

“There’s two of ‘em!” Callum shouted over his shoulder, sensing Hux’s reluctance, “This one’s the real deal! They were fakin’ us out! He’s the real Prince!”  
Callum’s testament did more to convince him than the sound of Ben’s voice. 

Ben sliced through the cable that suspended Hux by the wrists, and held him aloft with the Force so he wouldn’t fall. He whipped his cloak off and wrapped it around Hux’s shoulders. Hux hissed as the rough fabric scratched across the shredded skin of his back. 

Turning to Callum, Ben barked, “You! Carry him! I can’t fight and keep this up at the same time!”

Callum nodded and fired off a few more covering shots before retreating into the room to drape Hux’s limp form over his back.

_Stars, it hurts. It hurts_ so _much._ But, if a bit more discomfort were necessary to their escape then so be it. Hux took a deep breath and held it, trying to endure again after having given up what seemed like a lifetime ago. Ben looked back to make sure Hux was alright, and when Callum brought him closer, Ben whispered, “I’m sorry.”

With a wave of his hand in front of Hux’s face, darkness closed in once more.


	10. Chapter 10

Exiting the temple, Ben once more felt the weight of the jungle humidity settle over him. He set out directly for his ship, determined to run the entire way if he had to. Fortunately for him, he might not have to. Not far from the temple grounds, two TIEs and an X-Wing had crashed. He couldn’t tell how long ago it had happened, and he didn’t really care, but nature had already begun to reclaim the ships. Circling around the clearing he found that the ships were largely intact, though all three had suffered damage that would take time to repair. 

_How much time, though? Less than it would take me to get back to my own ship if I just walked?_ Ben considered the X-Wing, at first, because it seemed to be the most spaceworthy with the least hull damage. _But it doesn’t need to be spaceworthy,_ he realized, _It just has to get me back to my ship in one piece. More or less._

One of the TIEs had blown its ejection seat, but it was the only ship whose systems came online and stayed on. The energy readout was decent enough to get him where he needed to go, too. The only drawback was that one of the wing panels had been badly damaged and piloting would be difficult without the emergency hatch. He would have to fly low and slow, and if he needed to eject for some reason, well…

Ben set about cutting the vines away and salvaging parts from the other TIE, using the Force to lift and carry the heavier parts when he couldn’t. He cut a backup generator from the X-Wing – the TIEs didn’t have one – and re-worked it into the main power couplings. As he worked, sweating and cursing his too-large hands that had difficulty fitting into the tiny repair conduits, he couldn’t stop thanking the mystery pilot for having ejected at what seemed to have been the very last second. Ben had the ship back to relatively good working order by nightfall.

He couldn’t chance taking off and searching for his ship at night, as low as he was going to have to fly to stay safe, so Ben curled up in the cockpit and tried to sleep. His dreams were filled with haunting voices and nebulous sensations of terror and pain that faded in and out of the reach of consciousness, dancing just beyond clarity. He woke before dawn and stared at the rain running down the fractured transparisteel viewport. Rain always reminded him of Hux. He sighed and tried not to think too much until it was bright enough outside to give it a go.

Not really having the time for a test flight, Ben revved the engines and went through a final systems check. Coolant was leaking from somewhere beyond his knowledge of repairs, but it wasn’t life-threatening. He hoped. The hull breach alarm was obnoxious, but he could endure it. The ship shuddered to life and rose into the air in fits and starts, and for a while Ben thought he might have to get out and push just to get above the treetops, but it eventually evened out.

He flew in as direct a line as he could manage. The ship’s scanners were damaged as well, but he had been able to guess the general location of his own ship after getting his bearings. The screech of the engines was deafening with the hatch open, and Ben understood how that sound could strike terror into the hearts of those who heard a TIE fighter approaching. It sounded like the screams of people dying by the thousands. Appropriate, he supposed, for its nature.

Tension built as he streaked over the canyon – if the engines faltered here, he would surely die. He exhaled in relief once he had passed it. He wasn’t flying very high, but from this view he could see that it extended all the way to the horizon on either side. He was also gratified to see that there weren’t any other bridges or means by which he could have crossed it elsewhere. At least he hadn’t wasted more time on that.

Other alarms started to sound in the cockpit, but he could hardly hear them over the engines and the wind whipping about. He had arrived at the clearing with his ship anyhow, so he set the TIE down as gently as he could manage. It clunked hard onto the muddy stones and nearly rolled forward as his makeshift wing replacement wobbled under the strain.

Ben left the TIE running, leapt out of the cockpit, and raced to his own ship – keying its unlock sequence from his chrono so that it had powered on and dropped the ramp by the time he arrived. Just as the ramp touched down, Ben hit it running and bolted straight for the cockpit, hands flying over panels and flipping system switches like a madman. It would take less than 5 minutes for the ship to warm-up from a cold start, but Ben had to delay his departure anyway.

Before he left this planet and its Force-boosting properties behind, he had to try to connect with Hux again. He paced about furiously in the cockpit, trying to get out the last of his nervous energy, and also (he would not admit to himself) to work up the courage to go back to that dark, terrible place. He had to know. Finally, he settled back into the pilot’s chair and let the ghostly energy of the jealous, taunting Sith lords guide him back into hell. They delighted in his suffering, and for that reason alone he knew he could trust them to lead him true. 

The connection was instantaneous. White-hot pain radiated through every millimeter of his being, as though he had been flung into the heart of a supernova. It took all his concentration to hold on to Hux’s broken psyche; the pain was unbearable, and more so the oppressive despair. He was ready to die. Ben could not find a way to use this to his advantage; it was all so overwhelming and he could not remove his own empathy from the struggle. *Tage, I’m coming for you! Don’t give up! Please, don’t give up!*

Fearing he would be sick again, and that he had already wasted too much time on this muddy rock of a planet, Ben started to break the connection. But, knowing he would regret it for the rest of his life if he couldn’t make it in time, he added, *I love you.*

The revulsion he felt from within Hux at those words shoved him back into his own consciousness in a way he never thought possible from someone with no Force-sensitivity. Ben sat, open-mouthed and blinking in confusion for several minutes. He could feel the residue of Hux’s hatred and fear of him flowing through his veins like a poison. Ben was so lost he couldn’t even form a question in his mind. Numbly, he punched in the launch sequence.

He flew through the raging skies fearlessly this time, not because he was brave (or foolish, as his brother would say) but because he felt as empty as the eye of a storm.

As soon as the black silence of space enveloped the ship, Ben punched in the coordinates for Coruscant and activated the hyperdrive. Stars elongated and streaked past the cockpit, even as he seemed to sink slowly backwards. He’d always hated that feeling. Turning to his comm panel, he saw that he had 6 messages waiting. He pressed play on the first: it was Anakin.

He sounded reluctant to speak – something Ben never thought he’d hear coming from his phobium-tongued brother. “Ben, something’s… happened. We were on Alderaan, and our camping trip was ambushed. Some of the cadets were killed, and… Hux was taken. We don’t know by whom, but right now it looks like it might have been Grant’s people. I’ll get back to you when I have more details.”

“ _Fracking_ Alderaan! Again!” Ben growled; anger the first emotion to re-emerge, “I swear to all the stars in the galaxy I’m going to take the Death Star and blow that place to _frelling kark_!”

The following messages were several days apart and were frustratingly brief; Anakin was back to his usual wintry self. 

“All the Holonews channels are reporting that it was Grant’s men who did this. Mother seems convinced it’s some sort of plot, but I’m not so sure. It’s certainly turned a lot of support our way. The last hold-outs in the IRC have declared for us now. I’ve been doing some checking on my own, but haven’t found anything yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Ben, quit sightseeing and pick up your comm for _frack’s_ sake. Where are you?”

“I need to speak to you over a secure channel. Contact me immediately. Seriously, I know you’re not dead. Where the _frack_ are you?”

“Ben, if you get this message, Mother wants you to come home now. Forget the mission, you can complete it later.”

“You were there, weren’t you? I felt you. I’m assuming you’re already on your way back now. Contact me as soon as you arrive, and don’t try anything cute. Understand?”

Ben understood. “Cute” was some kind of military slang for a situation that was extremely dangerous. _It’s_ going _to be 'extremely dangerous', all right. What the_ frack _is going on?_

Checking the ship’s chrono, he saw that it would take 47 hours to reach Coruscant on his current heading. Ben spent the next three hours delaying the inevitable, fiddling around with different astrogation calculations to try to shave some time off the journey. The most he could manage was to reduce it by 3 hours and 45 minutes. He input the new jump coordinates and slumped back into his cushy pilot’s chair, trying not to fall asleep.

With the new co-ords, he had about 15 minutes before he passed the next hyperspace relay. His chrono told him it was currently 3am on Coruscant. He didn’t know if his brother was there or off on some Star Destroyer already, and if so, ship’s time might be different. _Frack it._

He opened a channel to Anakin and waited. After a few minutes, Anakin’s fuzzy, blue image hovered above the projector. He was in bed, in what looked like an officer's berth on a Star Destroyer. “Ben!” He paused, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Stars… you look terrible. Where have you been? How much longer ‘til you get here?”

“About 40 hours. Enough about me; where’s Hux? What’s going on? What have you found out?”

Anakin took a deep breath and let it out. He knew this conversation had to happen, but he still wasn’t quite prepared for it. He looked straight into the projector, so that their eyes met. “Ben, I’m sorry. He’s dead.”

Ben grit his teeth; there, in the deepest recesses of his mind, he could still feel the tenuous connection he and Hux shared. “No, he’s not! I can—”

“Are you in hyperspace?” Anakin frowned. “Ben, I said a ‘secure channel’. We can’t talk here. Call me back when you’re in-system.”

“Ani! Don’t you dare cut me o—! Ani! ”

The call cut out and Ben whipped out his lightsaber, temper flaring. He stopped just short of eviscerating the comm panel and stormed off to the cargo bay to find something to destroy.

He wore himself out hacking apart a training droid, telling himself that he just needed the practice. He didn’t want to think about Anakin, or his mother, or even Hux right now; he just wanted to exist in his fury and revel in the power it brought him. His connection with Hux had planted a deep sorrow in his heart, and it had flowered into doubt. Ben couldn’t understand how the Dark Side could fail him so completely where it was meant to be strongest. He wished he could shut himself off from his emotions, like his brother, but he didn’t want to admit that either.

Eventually, he shut down his lightsaber and wandered into the galley. He’d subsisted on protein bars and filtered water for the last month, and he was ravenous. The rations on the ship were of a higher quality, but still not quite “food” by his exacting standards. He chowed down, nonetheless. 

It would do him no good to constantly check the chrono, so he set his alarm, stripped and tossed his muddy robes into the laundry, and headed off to the ‘fresher. He stopped to stare at his haggard reflection in the mirror: his usually wavy but smooth hair stuck out in every direction, having been tossed about by the wild winds in the TIE fighter; his face was streaked with dirt and tears; his eyes were red-rimmed and seemed to float above deep-set crescents of darkness. He inspected the the gash across his face and saw that it had already started to scar, hot as the metal was when it cut him. After a shower he would put some Bacta on it and hope.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anakin shut off his Holoprojector and powered it down, suspecting that his brother would continue to call despite his insistence on a secure line. What he had to say shouldn’t even be said in person, much less over some free-for-all, hyperspace relay network, or in front of his 3 other bunk mates on the ship. He still had trouble believing it himself.

He wasn’t angry that Ben had awakened him in the middle of the night, but he was annoyed that he couldn’t get back to sleep. Anakin had never seen his brother look so distressed, and it bothered him on some deep level he thought he had sealed off in his mind long ago. He believed in doing the right thing – that is to say, whatever was right for him and tangentially his family and friends – but now, he wasn’t so sure that he had.

Hux was one of his very few friends. He believed in science, reason, ambition, and hard work to get what he wanted, and Anakin respected him for that. (He also wondered how in the Nine Hells Hux had ever fallen for his brother, or vice versa, but that was neither here nor there.) So when he discovered that Hux wasn’t dead, and had possibly even pinpointed the location where he was being held, he questioned why he didn’t act on that information. 

_Attachments are for the weak, and Hux is replaceable_ , he told himself. Well, not _entirely_ replaceable – only one other person had scored higher than Anakin on their final Academy placements, and she had been killed in the ambush. It was a great loss to the Empire for the top two graduates at the most prestigious military academy in the galaxy to have been killed, and _that_ mattered to Anakin. His inheritance would not be secured on the backs of fools.

He also loved his brother, he supposed, though he admitted to himself that he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. An instinctive protectiveness, maybe. Anakin had never been as passionate as his brother about anything except power and control, and even that was different. Drive was not the same as desire. Ben insisted that the only way to become Sith was to revel in one’s emotions and use them to gain power, but Anakin found calm and stability to be far more empowering. He wondered if he’d ever truly felt anything. Perhaps Ben was right when he mockingly called him “Jedi Master”, but he’d never admit that. After all, politics and diplomacy got one further in life than brute strength ever would.

Ben had tried to reach out to Hux and had been devastated by whatever he had discovered. That much was plain. He would probably be livid over his perception that Anakin had “done nothing”. Lacking self-control, Ben was likely to do something that they would all regret. He had never hoped to one day face off with his brother, but he always knew that it might be a possibility, and he wondered if this would be the catalyst.

Still, he had not acted. Not for friendship, and not for familial ties. 

He thought he knew the reason why, and it kept him up until reveille.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  * A note on Ben's outburst (“ _Fracking_ Alderaan! Again!”): in Year 16, an attempt is made on Ben's and Anakin's lives while staying there, supposedly in safety.  
>   
>   
> 


	11. Chapter 11

Hux had not expected to wake again. He was not a quitter. He never had been. But he had been ready for death – had willed it so fiercely he had expected his body to follow his command like any well-trained soldier – despite the tiny spark of hope that had reignited inside him. Now, that hope was gone. Control was everything, and he’d been in denial from day one that he had any in this place. He knew better now. His body was broken beyond repair, and soon (if it hadn’t already) his mind would go, too. If he were going to die, he wanted to at least be himself in the end.

Feeling the cold durasteel of a medical table beneath him, he kept his eye closed and his breathing slow and steady. The cool metal soothed the itching of the slashes on his back and he imagined the chill permeating his entire being. If he could fake being asleep long enough, perhaps he would pass back into that gentle oblivion, or beyond. 

_But what if I am free and they only think I’m dead and this is my autopsy?_ The long-held fear shot through him like an electric current and his eye snapped open. He gasped, suddenly desperate to give some sign of life, and hated himself for falling prey to his weaknesses yet again.

Ben sat next to him, absently flipping a vibroscalpel around the fingers of one hand while pulling at the stitches on Hux’s arm with the other.

“I wondered how long you’d try to pretend.”

As he took in his new surroundings, Hux became aware of the restraints fastening him to the table and didn’t try to struggle. For a long time he stared up at the ceiling, saying nothing. His mind was numb – shutting down to protect what was left of his psyche. He couldn’t go through this again.

“That wasn’t very long. I’m disappointed in you.”

Ben pulled up on the knot of the first thread until it ripped free. Hux inhaled sharply but didn’t look over at him. Ben moved to the next stitch, tracing his fingers over it.

“Your father would be disappointed, too. Letting your fear get the better of you like that.”

Hux exhaled and closed his eye, surprised by the tear that escaped and rolled down the side of his face. If he was sad, he wasn’t aware of it. He didn’t feel anything. He’d finally achieved that same state of dissociation he used to experience when he was being bullied at prep school, or during his father’s many punishments. It was nice.

“How easily you’ve been misled by your ridiculous sentiment. You really thought that was me? That you would be free of this? Ever?” Ben punctuated the end of each statement by yanking out another stitch. “Even after everything I’ve put you through, you still want to believe. You still love me.”

The sensation of the sticky flesh peeling apart again was nauseating, but not as bad as much of what Hux had endured. He ignored it, and Ben’s attempts to goad him, and tried to will himself back into unconsciousness.

“Don’t do that. Don’t ignore me.”

The voice was suddenly much closer, and when he looked again, Ben’s mask was hovering mere centimeters above his face, his hand dangerously close to the needles in Hux’s other eye. 

Hux tried to speak, but he couldn’t. He had no more strength. Knowing Ben was there in his mind, he tried to focus his thoughts. _I’m so tired, Ben. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so, but if you ever loved me, please, just let me die. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I don’t want to feel anything. End it. Please._

“I never loved you. Who could ever feel anything but pity for such a useless, worthless weakling?” He started to pull out one of the needles with agonizing slowness, letting the barbed edges rip up what was left of Hux’s eye.

Hux retched and gagged, but had nothing left to bring up. He hadn’t eaten since he’d been brought here. He wished he had; strapped down as he was, he would have choked on his own vomit and died. Right now, that was all he wanted. 

Ben continued to withdraw and reinsert the needle for some time, enjoying the whirl of reactions he provoked in Hux’s mind and body.

“It’s interesting. You want to die, and yet you keep fighting. You can’t even control your own instincts. You’re no better than an animal, letting your pain control you like this.”

It was true. He couldn’t stop squirming under the restraints, trying to get away from the tremors of agony that shook him. Hux didn’t understand why he couldn’t just let go. What could he possibly have to live for now? There was no one in the entire universe who loved him, who cared what happened to him. What did it even matter if he lost his mind when he’d already lost everything else that made him who he was? The only thing that mattered anymore was escaping the pain. He would do anything to make it stop, but what could he do? 

His screams were no more than whispers, but in his mind they were all that was left – so loud and jumbled that he couldn’t even think clearly enough to form words. 

“This is only going to get worse, but in the end you’ll get what you want. You wondered how much pain a man could take before he died from it. You’re going to find out.”

Hux could barely comprehend what was being said, but the promise of death was all that mattered. Nothing in his life had ever come easily. He didn’t see why his death should be any different.


	12. Chapter 12

Ben spent the next 40 hours in near constant sword practice and meditation. The closer he came to Coruscant, the more strongly he felt Hux’s torment. The first time it ceased, he panicked. But when pain began to creep through the background of his thoughts less than an hour later, he realized that Hux had merely been unconscious during that time. It seemed the closer Ben came to rescuing him, the more fiercely they tortured him. _Like they know I’m coming_. The last few hours before his arrival, during his flight through Coruscant space, Hux’s pain swelled in relentless waves. 

*I’m almost there, Tage, hold on,* he sent his thoughts toward Hux, but wasn’t sure if he had been heard.

He thought about contacting Ani, too, but there was no time to argue with him and he hadn’t seemed all that concerned with helping in the first place. He was too distraught to forge a mental link with his brother right now. He couldn’t stand the thought of being so vulnerable in front of him. Bitterly, Ben thought, _Frack him. If he really wants to help, he’ll find me. He knows I’m here by now._

Ben sent out his ship’s ident code and request for landing, which was granted automatically. Once he entered atmosphere, he dodged through Coruscant’s thick, evening traffic and shut off his transceiver. He had no intention of landing where he’d been instructed. Frowning in concentration, he zipped between buildings and downward into the underbelly of the city-planet. His ship was far too large for the maneuvers he attempted, but he was beyond caring about cosmetic damages, or anything else for that matter.

Like a lost and lonely beacon in the Unknown Regions, Hux’s agony guided him through the narrow passages and byways. Ben had long since flown past any place he was familiar with when he finally set down on an abandoned-looking landing pad. The crumbling permacrete façade of the building in front of him gave no indications as to the horrors hiding within. It was dark and seemingly unguarded.

Too frantic to be cautious, Ben leapt from his seat so fast he banged his hip on a console. Although he hissed, he was relieved that the sharp jolt added an edge to his senses. The power of the Dark Side was with him. He pulled on his helmet as he descended the ramp. Upon exiting the ship, two Stormtroopers had approached.

_Stormtroopers? What the frack?_

“Welcome back, Sir,” the first one stood at attention while the second one seemed to regard his ship with curiosity.

_Welcome back?_

In his confusion, Ben could think of no appropriate response, so he just kept walking toward the entrance. 

“Sir?” the second guard called, hesitantly.

“What?” Ben snapped.

“The entrance is this way.” He motioned toward the opposite side of the building with his blaster.

He felt a ripple in the Force, a spike of apprehension, just before he heard the first guard warn the second. 

“That’s not him! Sound the alar—!” his words choked off as Ben’s lightsaber flared to life and plunged through the man’s neck.

The other trooper fired off two shots, both of which were directed back into his armored chest with a simple twirl of the blazing red energy blade. Before he fell, however, he had managed to trip some sort of alarm. Klaxons sounded within the thick walls of the structure.

Swearing, Ben raced around the side of the building that the trooper had indicated, and watched with horror as a thick blast door descended over the entrance to a small hangar bay. He took off running, calling on the Force to boost his speed, determined to close the distance before the door shut him out. Ben flung himself to the ground under the swiftly closing gap, rolling to a stop just inside the door. It caught the hem of his robe.

He growled and sliced through it with his lightsaber as three more troopers rounded the corner of a hall. They lowered their weapons in confusion when they saw him, and he seized the opportunity. “Out there! We’re under attack!” he motioned behind himself with his lightsaber, and when two of them passed, he swung back and cut them down without hesitation. To the third he pointed and snarled, “Take me to the prisoner. Now.”

The soldier stammered, “I—I’ll take you to him now. Sir.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anakin’s double-shift was about to end when he felt his brother’s presence flicker into existence. He had just exited hyperspace and his agitation was palpable.

“You ok, Ice?” His C.O. noticed his slight hesitation in closing the final repair panel.

“Yes. Sorry, Sir.”

“If you have something you need to do, we’re all finished here. You can go early. I’ll sign you out.”

“Thank you, Sir. I’ll be in all the earlier tomorrow.”

“No worries, Lieutenant. See you at 0900.”

Anakin hurried to his quarters and changed out of his uniform, keenly aware that with every passing second his brother was getting himself further and further into trouble. He checked his comm. Finding no messages or missed calls, he snatched up his lightsaber and sprinted to the shuttle bay.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After obediently leading Ben down several winding corridors, as soon as he rounded a corner and saw several of his comrades standing guard at their stations, the trooper slapped an emergency panel and ducked into the hall. A solid door clanged down instantly between them.

Shouting, furious at having been deceived, Ben drove his lightsaber up to the hilt into the thick metal blast door. Unfettered anger fueled his straining muscles as he alternatingly pushed and pulled it around, starting to carve a rough, glowing circle into the surface. It was much more difficult than he’d imagined. _This is taking too_ karking _long!_

He could hear the soldiers on the other side of the door, boots slapping the stone floor as they too raced toward Hux, probably hoping to use him as a hostage to stop Ben’s onslaught. The longer this took, the closer they would be to hurting him. Hux’s agony already throbbed in the back of Ben’s mind, driving him onward in a frenzy of hatred. Beginning to panic, he drew strength from his budding fears and used the Force to power-kick open the remainder of the hole he had carved with his lightsaber. The circle of heavy alusteel flew inward, clanging to the ground some 5 meters away and taking with it one of the men who had been waiting to fire on him. 

Three of the remaining four traitors turned their blasters on him as well, but he twirled his lightsaber and deflected their shots with ease as he continued to advance down the narrow corridor. They seemed terrified by his boldness, which made it easy to paralyze them with a wave of his free hand. If Ben hadn’t been so intent on his goal, he would have smiled. Vengeance felt so satisfying. One by one, he cut down the first and second men as he passed, merciless and unstoppable. The scent of the charred flesh of his enemies spurred him onward. The third, a Rodian woman, dropped her blaster and squealed and begged in some alien tongue he didn’t understand. Ben didn’t even look at her as he silenced her with one smooth, downward slash.

At her death, the last man turned from the door panel up ahead and began firing with two blasters. This made no difference to Ben, who strode down the hall with a grim intensity, black cloak billowing out behind him and making him seem even larger than his already formidable size. Though he usually wondered if he cut as intimidating a figure as his grandfather had, he didn’t give it a thought now. Not a single shot had a chance of hitting him, so attuned was he to both the Force and his purpose, and he angled the last two bolts back at the gunman, knocking the blaster pistols out of his hands. The trooper swore and backed away, hands up.

“Listen, kid, you’ll never get that door open if you kill me. You want that boy in there you’d better let me go.”

Ben stopped within striking distance of the stocky, older man and raised his lightsaber so that the tip hovered just in front of the man’s heart. He looked to the door panel, which seemed to be a standard model prison lock, and back to the man. He said nothing. Thinking. Letting the expressionless plane of his mask do the talking for him.

Just beyond the door he could sense Hux’s presence. _He’s in there, right now. Hurt. Dying._

The man said nothing either. He was much older than Ben – gruff and cynical from a life of soldiering – and he had played this intimidation game before. 

For all his youth, Ben was no stranger to a test of wills. With no hesitation, he flicked his lightsaber down and severed the man’s thumb. Before he even had a chance to scream, the sputtering blade was again in front of his chest.

“Open the door. For every second you delay, you lose one more body part.”

“Suck a blaster you little shit,” the man spat on his cloak.

One of the earliest lessons his mother had taught him was to never make a threat on which he wasn’t prepared to follow through. If the enemy called your bluff, you had nothing else to bargain with. You would be powerless, and victory could not be achieved without power. Ben dipped his blade again and lopped off the man’s entire hand.

“What the _kriffing_ hell?” he shrieked, clutching his stump.

“That was five seconds worth.”

“You _fracking_ —!” The man reached down to his boot to draw another weapon and Ben ran him through, impatience getting the better of him. If his brother, Anakin, had been here, this is where he would have interjected some irritating comment on Ben’s recklessness. _“Way to go, imbecile. What if the lock is booby-trapped?”_ he imagined Ani’s admonishments as clearly as if he had been standing beside him. _And then he would have to show off how much better than me he is at slicing, when really he’d be trying to sneak in his Force powers to open—ah!_

Ben couldn’t direct energy through delicate circuitry like his brother could, but he could try draining the back-up battery that was surely connected to the door, in the hope that an emergency shutdown would trigger the locking mechanism to disengage in order to avoid overheating the circuitry. He tried to shut the link he had with Hux out of his mind so he could concentrate. Stretching his hand out over the panel, he envisioned the flow of electricity extending out and into him. There was a slight jolt as the connection was made, and he felt the power surge through him at a faster rate than he had expected.

Normally, it took about a minute to completely drain a device this size, but as the power continued to stream into him unabated he realized that there was no back-up battery. The back-up generator for this system was located elsewhere, and it was too strong and constant to be depleted in this way. This was no ordinary criminal hideout. It had to be some kind of Imperial black site to have defenses this powerful.

Tired of fiddling with the lock and infuriated that such a mundane thing should stand between him and Hux when he could feel him, hurting, _right there_ , Ben growled and rammed his lightsaber through the panel. He had hacked through 9 beings and a door to get this far, and so far brute force had served him just fine. Sparks flew and the heavy, metal door slid slightly open along protesting rails. The uncertainty of what lay beyond gave him pause as he cautiously shouldered the door open.

The smell hit him first, even filtered through his mask – sickness, excrement, infection, sweat, old and fresh blood – all mingling together, threatening to make him retch. The absolute blackness of the room made it seem much larger than it actually was, echoing his dread at stepping into this unknown horror. Only a sliver of light from the hall made its way around him, and what it illuminated made his heart stop. 

Junior Lt. Armitage Hux, curled on his side, naked and broken in so many places, looked up at him with abject terror through one red-rimmed, bloodshot eye and tried to push himself away from the light. His cries were little more than a whisper. “No, please, not again, no more, please, whatever you want, I’ll do whatever you want, please, just kill me, please!”

Hux’s fear was overwhelming, and emanating from anyone else, it would have been a fine feast for Ben to savor. Instead, he felt as if every particle of gravity in the universe had coalesced into a singularity in the pit of his stomach. 

_He’s not just afraid… He’s afraid of_ me.

Dropping to Hux’s side he pulled off his helmet and reached out to comfort him. “Tage, it’s me. It’s ok now; I’m getting you out of here.”

“No!” Hux collapsed into deep, hitching sobs, scraping bare skin on the rough permacrete as he shoved himself farther away. “No more! Don’t touch me!”

“I don’t understand,” Ben said, blinking back tears as Hux’s panic began to affect him, “I’m not going to hurt you. We’re getting out of here.”

Hux closed his eye in resignation and let out a trembling sigh as he went limp. He mumbled incoherently to himself, a whispered chant from which Ben could make out only a few snippets, “death… you promised… doesn’t matter… not real…”

Steeling himself for what he had to do, Ben whispered back, “I’m sorry, Tage. I don’t want to hurt you.” With a frown of anguished concentration and a wave of his gloved hand, Hux fell unconscious. Ben removed his cloak, spread it out over the grimy floor, and called on the Force to float Hux onto it as quickly and carefully as he could, trying to avoid his most obvious wounds as he wrapped him up. Hux had been tortured mercilessly for however long he’d been here. Even Ben, who had helped to interrogate prisoners before, found himself shocked by the brutality of it. 

The entire right side of Armitage’s face was misshapen and bruised. His eye was swollen shut and oozing around several protruding needles. Red and purple patches on his throat suggested he had been strangled or hung, repeatedly. Cracked and broken bones jutted out in too many places: his ribs, his collarbone, his left arm and leg, all of his right hand and some of the fingers on his left. Deep gashes covered his body; some had been stitched and ripped open again, others were scabbed over or sticky and fresh. Some of the cuts had been cauterized. Burns and blisters from a force pike or some other shock device marked his flesh in random places. His back was raw with infected, weeping wounds, flayed to the bone in places. And he was so thin – much smaller than Ben remembered him being. He wondered just how long Armitage had been in this place. Though he had only felt Hux’s suffering for the last few days, the way his skin sunk between his ribs and hugged the hollows beneath his cheekbones, he must have been here at least a week, maybe two. His captors had been starving him, on top of everything else.

Rage welled up within him again, shoving aside the unease he’d felt at all these terrifying new emotions. Ben hid his tear-stained face once more behind his helmet and scooped Hux up into his arms. His friend had become so frail, the effortlessness of the action made him even angrier. He growled through gritted teeth as he kicked the door all the way open and strode into the hall.

At the end of the corridor, Grand Inquisitor Kyp Durron was making his way through the hole Ben had cut in the blast doors. 

Ben stopped and sighed in relief. “Master Durron! Thank the stars! I—”

“You killed all these men?” Durron interrupted, assessing the slumped bodies and lightsaber scorch marks that lined the narrow hall.

Ben growled, injecting hatred into each word, “Every last one.” Underneath his outrage, though, he felt that nagging sense of unease returning. 

“Well done,” he nodded, smiling, “That makes my job all the easier.” 

Durron ignited his lightsaber.

Ben’s disquiet morphed into a deeper sense of betrayal as he finally understood. Now that he was in better lighting he could see one of the burn marks near Hux’s neck more clearly. It was the distinctive brand of a lightsaber.

“You…” he hissed, “You did this?”

“Not all of it,” Durron smiled in fond remembrance, “but most of it, yes.”

Ben stumbled backward a step, his knees buckling under the emotional stress of everything that had happened. His breathing came in short, shallow gasps as he tried to regain some measure of control. It was too much, all of this. He was alone, with his only friend dying in his arms. He sank to his knees and set Hux down as gently as he could.

“Ah, yes. You may hide your face behind that mask, but I know you, Ben. I can feel your sorrow all the way over here,” the Grand Inquisitor shuddered in delight and grinned at his student, “But grief won’t save you, delectable as it is. Only your hatred will give you even half a chance against me.”

Ben rose on unsteady legs and called his lightsaber to hand. It flared to life, sputtering crimson sparks into the shadows around him. 

Durron’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the new blade. He smirked, “Do you know what the _best_ part was?”

Beneath his mask, Ben had never felt more exposed, knowing the Grand Inquisitor could sense every part of his inner turmoil. He was so overcome with anguish, and now fear: he would never be strong enough to defeat his former teacher or save Hux. Doubt would be his undoing. Though he said nothing aloud, he knew that the answer buried deep in the recesses of his heart had already been spoken plainly in the Inquisitor’s mind. _Don’t. Don’t say it._

Durron waited for the tension in the silence between them to build, relishing the despair in his student’s heart. 

“The best part was _fucking_ him and pretending to be _you_.”

With a savage shriek, like a wounded animal tearing its way from his throat, Ben hurled himself at his former teacher. He swung wildly and with such raw power that his misses gouged deep, glowing channels into the stone walls. 

Despite his taunts, Durron had underestimated the magnitude of Ben’s rage and the depth of attachment he had to his lover. He leapt back again and again from his vicious slashes before finally stamping down his momentary surprise and retaliating. Even with his controlled, precise jabs he found it difficult to break through Ben’s ferocious offense and drive the boy back. Ben had given up all sense of caution and self-preservation, and Durron had never fought someone in such a turbulent state of disregard for his own life. He was in awe. Still, he had patience and nearly ten years of honed skills over the boy, and he had no intention of killing him to complete his mission.

Durron dodged blow after blow, occasionally needling him back with a well-timed lunge or two, waiting for the fire of Ben’s fury to burn itself out. Instead, every small injury and near miss seemed to stoke the flames of his hatred. Though Kyp’s life was very much in danger, he was exhilarated by his student’s intensity. He couldn’t help but laugh. What Ben lacked in form, he more than made up for in passion – the makings of a true Sith.

Every one of Ben’s swings was punctuated with a wordless scream – the aural embodiment of every last particle of misery in his body. The longer it took to defeat this monster, the closer Armitage came to death. The only person outside his family that he had ever trusted, ever loved, had been tortured and violated by this man he once called Master; this man who now danced around his foolhardy stabs and laughed at his pain. Finally, his indignation found and formed the only word that could express his confusion, and he shouted it over the stuttering hum of his lightsaber as it once again clashed with Durron’s.

“WHY?”

The Inquisitor seized on this unexpected chance as he blocked two more thrusts, each punctuated by the same question. “Your mother said you would wed the Qel-Droma girl, and she meant it. She will not abide an apprentice with attachments.”

_My_ … mother _did this?_

Ben’s strength, and his guard, faltered. It was all the hesitation Durron needed to gain the advantage. In one swift twirl, his saber danced around Ben’s. If it hadn’t been for that damned cross-guard design and a last minute twist as the boy lost his footing and fell backwards, he might have cut off his hand. Instead, the fiery blade carved a path from Ben’s wrist all the way up past his elbow. He cried out in pain as he dropped his lightsaber and scrambled backwards over the bodies of the men he would soon join.

Ben clutched the robes over his heart as though he’d already been dealt the killing blow. In a way, he had. 

_Mother… why?_

The Grand Inquisitor marched toward him, one hand raised over his head to call down Force lightning for the final strike. 

Ben turned to Hux’s still unconscious form and sobbed, “I’m sorry,” before closing his eyes and shamefully waiting to die.

The hiss and hum of an energy blade, and a scream that was not his own made him turn back around. 

The orange length of a lightsaber protruded from his former master’s chest. The look of shock on Durron’s face nearly matched Ben’s own expression as the body fell away to reveal his brother, Anakin.

Ben was simultaneously elated and terrified. His pounding heart could not withstand another betrayal. “Ani?” his voice cracked under the strain.

Anakin’s sneer of contempt for his brother’s foolishness disappeared as he strode over and knelt down beside him, an uncharacteristic empathy for his suffering clear on his usually impassive face. “Whatever you’ve done, brother, you never deserved this.” 

The relief that washed over him in that moment almost drowned him. He finally allowed himself to breathe and embraced Ani as fiercely as he could before turning back to Hux. “Hurry, he’s dying.”

Anakin nodded and swept up Armitage’s limp form as Ben staggered to his feet. They raced through the dark and winding maze of hallways, led onward by the trail of Ben’s earlier rampage. Soon they exited into an alley in Coruscant’s squalid underworld. 

Ben’s ship was gone. Stolen. In his haste to get to Hux he had left the loading ramp down. If it hadn’t been for Anakin’s ship sitting safely nearby, despair might have overtaken him. A single flick of Anakin’s finger clicked the locking mechanism open, and by the time they arrived the loading ramp was down and ready.

HK-55’s robotic voice greeted them from the cockpit as Anakin hastened toward the small medical berth near the cargo hold. “Exclamation: Young Masters! I’m so glad to see you have survived your ordeal in this decrepit cesspool of a city. Query: Shall we depart?”

“Yes, get us out of here.” Ben tossed his helmet aside, dropped into the pilot’s seat next to the droid, and began priming the controls for departure with his good hand.

“Ben, you need healing. HK can take it from here,” Anakin called from the med bay.

“I’ll be fine. Hux first.” 

Ben felt as much as heard his brother’s gasp of surprise. _He must have unwrapped the cloak…_

“What in all the Hells of the universe? How is he still alive?”

Ben gave HK the necessary astrogation calculations to the only safe place he could think of, and rushed back to find Anakin staring down at Hux in astonishment. 

“Mother… allowed _this_?”

The mention of his mother infuriated Ben once more and he growled, “Don’t look at him like that,” while protectively draping the rough fabric over Hux’s nakedness again. In a softer tone he pleaded, “Help me heal him.”

Anakin nodded, disinclined to argue with his brother at a time like this, even though he briefly thought that Ben should just kill Hux himself and be done with it. Once he had seen that the Grand Inquisitor was involved, it all made sense to him. Hearing Durron’s confession only confirmed the unsettling realization that had been hounding him since he landed. Ultimately, their mother was right: Ben needed to rid himself of all weakness if he were going to become as powerful as he desired. Still, being confronted by the horrifying reality of that degree of treachery gave him pause. It was petty and wasteful, and not like their mother at all.

The jostling of the ship during HK’s departure didn’t distract them as they knelt side-by-side and sank into a healing trance. His brother had always been the better healer, so Ben simply took his hand and let their bond in the Force pull what little strength he had left to aid Anakin’s efforts. He tried to block out the awful agony Hux felt, that seeped into his meditations and threatened to make him dissolve into a weeping mess right there in front of his brother. He held it together, barely, even though he knew that in the depth of their bond his brother could feel every ebb and flow of emotion that passed through him anyway.

Locked into Anakin’s trance as he was, Ben winced at the creak and snap of Hux’s ribs being drawn back into place. He also felt Hux’s sudden alertness at the sharp pain. Anakin was the better healer, but still not a very good one: neither of them could mend wounds as serious as Hux’s and quell his pain at the same time. Ben opened his eyes to find Armitage staring into his, and Hux slammed himself back against the bulkhead in a panic.

“No! Not again!” he cried, looking around the ship wildly, “Don’t touch me!”

Ben shrank away from him in shame, knowing what had been done to him with his visage. Anakin attempted to continue the healing for a while but eventually opened his eyes, too.

“He’s delirious with fever, and I can’t do anything about this infection. This is just—”

The ship jolted and listed heavily to one side.

“HK?” Anakin called.

“Observation: We appear to have company, Masters.”

“Get the Bacta. Make sure you cover as many of the open and infected wounds as you can first, and…” for once, Anakin was overcome by awkwardness and hesitated over his next instructions, “You’ll have to… put it inside him, too.” He dashed off toward the bridge, leaving Ben and Armitage alone.

Ben backed away slowly from Hux, one hand up in a non-threatening gesture while his other arm dangled uselessly at his side. He rummaged through the supply locker, swearing at the lack of emergency supplies. Ben held the few patches he could find between his teeth and retrieved the too small jar of Bacta, along with a few rags that he dampened in the cool water of the nearby sink. 

When he returned, Armitage was curled as far back against the bulkhead as he could get, shaking and muttering to himself that he couldn’t go through this again. He didn’t seem to notice (or care) when Ben pushed the matted strands of red hair away from his forehead and placed one of the damp towels there. Ben didn’t know what to say to this once fearless Imperial officer, who now cowered in a quivering heap, still caked in blood, sick, dirt, and filth. What could he possibly say to assuage any of his immense suffering?

With silent tears flowing down his cheeks, Ben pushed aside the cloak and began to wipe away the grime around Hux’s wounds. He had never been so careful or gentle with another being in his life, but it somehow felt natural, alleviating a small portion of his embarrassment and shame. He wanted to apologize again and again, knowing that he was hurting him simply by being near him, but also worrying that the sound of his voice, no matter how soothing he tried to make it, would send Hux into another frenzy. For now, Hux seemed unfazed by Ben’s ministrations, his one good eye staring off into some distant point in a place that Ben couldn’t (and didn’t want to) see.

Ben attuned himself to the ship’s rocking so as to pull away before he lost his balance and further injured his friend. For what seemed like an hour the ship zig-zagged and dodged the occasional explosions that sounded perilously close, but all he heard was Hux’s soft whimper. 

“Ben… _why_?”

Those two words, so light and yet weighted with every sense of betrayal Ben himself had felt over the last few hours, broke his heart. He lay his head down on the edge of the bed and broke down. Did Hux really believe that he was so evil he was capable of such depravity? “Tage,” his voice caught and cracked, “I didn’t! I would never, _ever_ hurt you! It wasn’t me, I swear! I didn’t do it! I love you!”

“Oh,” Hux said, his voice devoid of emotion.

“ _Please_ , believe me,” Ben pleaded, looking up into his eye. 

Hux’s vision drifted back into focus and he stared at Ben’s face for several agonizing minutes before saying anything else. “I believe you.” 

Ben was too distraught to be able to tell if he really did, or if he felt he was just playing along to appease his “captors”, but he wanted so badly for it to be true. Tentatively, he reached out for Hux’s hand and stopped, recognizing his selfish need to touch him. This was another first for him – actually giving a _kark_ about another’s feelings and needs. Hux had been stripped of his dignity and his agency as swiftly as his clothes had been ripped from him. What Armitage needed, more than anything right now, was to feel some sense of control over his body and his surroundings. 

Again, Ben was astounded by the depth of his own empathy. It felt… _good_ , and yet it had come so naturally to him. Was this what Jedi meant when they said “compassion”? Was this the power of the Light?

“May I take your hand?” he whispered.

Hux swallowed hard, and flinched, but nodded ever so slightly.

Ben found it simple to connect to the brightest part of the Living Force this time. The part that encouraged things to grow, to mend, to feel comfort and peace – it had always been just beyond his grasp, until now. He pulled off his glove with his teeth, and reached out to stroke Hux’s bent and broken fingers, barely brushing skin on skin. The tingle of the healing power surged through him, and though he felt clumsy trying to control it, it seemed to bring some relief to Hux and for that he was grateful. He wasn’t sure if he was making any progress or not, but the mere fact that he could ease some of Hux’s pain was enough in this moment.

Hux was staring off into nothingness, lost in some dark well of thought, when he started talking again. “When you were… when _whoever_ was… raping me,” he rasped, “he wasn’t just _inside_ me. He was inside my mind. Saying such… _unforgivable_ things with your voice. But, one day, I thought I felt you… the _real_ you… there, saying that you were coming for me… And it gave me such… hope.” He smiled weakly, but it faded just as suddenly, “But, he hurt me… _so many_ times… I forgot. I told myself that it was just what I wanted to hear, or that it was just another trick… I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you.”

“No,” Ben protested, “No, no, you have nothing to apologize for. It was the Grand Inquisitor. With his power, anyone would have thought—”

“I’m _so ashamed_ that I thought you, Ben Organa-Phennir, you who just said you _loved_ me, could have done those things.” He smiled again, the barest hint of his old, snarky self fluttering to the surface before he succumbed to a fit of coughing.

Ben blushed, and reached out to steady him. He was smiling now, too, in spite of his embarrassment, amazed that such a small gesture could have such a profound effect on him. The coughing continued for some time until blood flecked the gray sheets. “Ok, ok, don’t try to talk anymore. Just rest. Try to sleep. I have to finish cleaning you up and putting this Bacta on.”

Hux nodded again and tried to uncurl himself from his protective fetal position. 

“No, don’t move. It’s ok; I can move you with the Force so it won’t hurt as much. But,” he faltered, “I have to put this _in_ you, too. And there aren’t any stims for the pain. I’m sorry. Will you… let me?”

Ben had to lean close to hear his frail voice over the hum of the hyperdrive kicking in. “Do whatever you have to do. It’s alright.”

For the next hour he worked in silence, trying to concentrate on the Force and on causing Hux as little additional harm as possible. Focusing on triage gave him the determination he needed to take his mind off the horrible things that had been done and set it to thinking about only what needed to be done. When he got down to the mottled, vicious bite mark on the shaft of Hux’s cock, however, he had to excuse himself. 

_What did they_ do _to you?_ his mind cried, though he didn’t really want to know. That they had left nothing, no part of him, not even his dignity, unscathed made him sick. Knowing that his own mother, whom he loved and admired and would have given his life for, had allowed (ordered?) this to happen…

Overwhelmed with disgust, he stumbled into the refresher, and vomited repeatedly and violently, gripping the rim of the seat as though he were fighting against the event horizon of a black hole. Alone in the tiny cubicle, he wept for a long time before he could calm himself enough to return to the med bay. Thankfully, Hux was sleeping by the time he got back.

Anakin leaned in from the passageway to see if he needed anything, but respectfully kept his distance. “How’s your arm?”

Ben hadn’t even thought of his own pain, so intent was he on making Armitage as comfortable as possible. Now that Anakin mentioned it, the burn flared up with intolerable heat. “It’s… Don’t worry about me. He still needs more. And I still have to…” he motioned to the remaining Bacta.

His brother nodded and stepped out to give them some privacy, calling back to him. “Let me know when you’re done. Despite what you may think, you’re a shitty liar, and I can feel your pain. I’m healing you next and I don’t want any _fragging_ sass about it. Six arms are better than five, especially if I need you in the gun turret the next time we get attacked.”

“Alright, alright,” Ben grumbled.

He waited for Anakin to disappear back to the cockpit and took a steadying breath. Terrified of waking Hux, of reminding him of the assault, Ben dipped a finger into what was left of the gooey, warm, healing microbe-gel and gently slipped it into Hux’s abused ass. His breathing quickened slightly, but fortunately he did not wake. The slimy substance worked as well as lube, and he was relieved to be able to smear it around as needed without causing Hux any additional distress. 

When he had finished, he washed up and went to find his brother. Anakin seemed to be dozing, leaned back as he was in the pilot’s chair, with HK-55 busying himself at the controls and checking readouts on the damage sustained in the last firefight.

“Query:” his metallic voice intoned, “You must be very hungry, especially Master Hux; shall I prepare your dinners?”

“Not right now,” Ben said, thankful for the volume modulator he had installed in HK a few months ago. The droid had adapted well to the new programming and was being as quiet as was possible. “Let them sleep.”

“I’m not asleep.” Anakin said with his eyes still closed, startling Ben. He stretched and leaned forward in the chair, motioning Ben over to the co-pilot’s seat. HK stood and offered the chair immediately, moving over to inspect the power console instead. Ben fell back into the seat gratefully, suddenly exhausted.

As Anakin healed him, the question he had pushed to the back of his mind, not really wanting to hear the answer to, came out through gritted teeth, “Who attacked us?”

“The Royal Guard.”

“So it’s true then. Mother wanted Hux dead, and me… what? Dead, too? Just broken? How did she even know about us? We were so careful.” Anakin knew about his relationship with Hux. He was the only one, as far as Ben knew. It was nearly impossible for either of them to keep secrets from one another. But that thought led him down a dark path he’d rather not get started on.

“I don’t know. It’s Mother,” he shrugged. “She has her ways.”

They both sat silently for a few minutes, Ben fighting back the tears that welled up once again. Though his brother had always been there for him in times of real need, he was ashamed to admit to himself that he didn’t always trust that it would be so. Anakin was a shrewd politician, as dedicated to doing his duty as Hux was. Sooner or later, he had believed his brother would eventually betray him, just as almost every other person he cared about had. He had to do something to honor the leap of faith Anakin had taken on his behalf. “You don’t have to be a part of this. You could just say I mind-tricked you into helping me. Just drop us off somewhere safe and we’ll find a way—”

Anakin looked him straight in the eye. “Somewhere ‘safe’? A way to _what_? Survive? To hide from _Mother_? You know you can’t. There’s nowhere in the galaxy she doesn’t have spies. Not considering the kind of places that would have the medical facilities Hux needs.” There was no trace of unkindness in his tone; he was just stating the facts in his usual straightforward way.

“There is one place,” he said after some hesitation.

“Ben, no,” Anakin shook his head, “The Rebels would just as soon kill you. Both of you. They don’t take in turncoats like they used to. And they would never believe you had turned against Mother.”

“Alright,” he conceded with a sigh.

“What are these headings we’re on now?”

“I put us in for Dromund Kaas.”

“Is there anything there?”

“No. Nothing at all. It was just the first place I thought of that no one else could find.”

“Well, that might be an option for later, but for now…”

“What about the Hutts? They still owe us big time for Ilos Minor. And that was all due to us; Mother had nothing to do with it. She has no favors to call in there.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, surprised by his brother’s sudden political astuteness. He considered a moment and said, “Hmm, that could be an option worth considering. But the Hutts are well-known for reneging on deals if the price is right. And Mother has the resources of over half the galaxy to throw at them if she really wanted to.”

In the momentary silence, Ben felt the atmosphere around his brother change. It was the same feeling he got when his mother was about to reprimand him. When Anakin looked up at him, Ben knew he was going to say something he didn’t want to hear. 

“Ben. Hux is probably the closest thing to a friend I’ve ever had. More than that he’s a useful ally, or would have been.”

Ben sneered and started to get up, not liking where this was going.

Anakin waved his hand in a rare display of his power, and slammed Ben back into the chair. “No! You are going to sit here and listen to me for once in your _fracking_ life!” he hissed, keeping his voice low so Hux wouldn’t hear if he were awake. “All your life you’ve wanted to be a true Sith, to follow in Mother’s footsteps and rule the galaxy, and now you’re willing to throw that all away for the sake of a boy you like to fuck.”

“That’s not—!”

Again, Anakin held his hand up, using Ben’s own Force trick to freeze him in place, unable to speak. Ben hadn’t even known he was capable of that, and it infuriated him.

“Shut. Up.” His brother glared at him and continued, undaunted by the blaze of rage in Ben’s eyes, “Hux is a weakness. He is your _only_ weakness. I know you love him, but _look_ at him. He’s miserable. Broken.” Anakin’s voice softened, “And what’s worse, he seems to think that _you_ did this to him. Someone with his kind of pride doesn’t recover from something like this. Your relationship will never be what it was. However you do it – I’ll leave it to you – but let him _go_ , Ben. Purge yourself of this weakness. Attachments like this will only bring you more pain. Mother will forgive you if you prove yourself. You can start over. It’s what’s best for you. It’s what’s best for _him_.” By the time he finished, he had released his hold on his brother.

Tears cascading down his cheeks, Ben stared at the deck, noticing tiny, unimportant details about the cross-hatched plating because his brain refused to let him admit that what his brother said was true: he did want power, he did want to rule the galaxy alongside his brother, he did want to be a true Sith, as was his birthright. But he didn’t want his mother’s forgiveness. He wanted her dead.

_Hux_ is _my only weakness..._ It was true, and yet…

_Hux is a weakness, but not_ that _Hux. Once Tage’s father finds out what happened to his only son under Mother’s orders, he’ll defect to Grant’s side and take half the Fleet and the army with him…_

Ben knew what had to be done, and he knew he had the strength to do it.

His thoughts drifted to the pouch still nestled at the small of his back, where he’d deposited the runes of power he’d discovered on Dromund Kaas. Tapping into their power, allowing its seeking, black tendrils to take control for just a few moments, Ben looked up into his brother’s eyes. His own eyes had turned black as deepest space.

“You will take us to the nearest habitable body in the Abhean System, and launch an escape pod with Hux and me in it. Then you will return to Coruscant and tell Mother that you never found us. We were already gone when you arrived. You tried to follow, but you never saw us.”

Anakin stared back in confusion, but repeated his words. “Good idea. I should leave you two in the Abhean System and just tell Mother you were already gone when I got there.”

Shivering, Ben blinked a few times and watched his brother turn obediently to the console without another word. The darkness in his eyes pooled and swirled, then dissipated like ink dropped into a glass of fresh water. He didn’t want those to be the last words he ever said to his brother, but he dared not break the spell by speaking again.

Ben watched him for a while, scrubbed the tears from his face, and turned to go prepare Hux for their departure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>   
>   
>  * When the IRC (Imperial Ruling Council) learned of Palpatine's death, they feared Leia would strip them of their power and replace them with her own close supporters. So they turned to their own allies for protection, and the Empire was split into a civil war. Imperials were forced to choose between an alliance to the charismatic and shrewd Leia Organa-Phennir and the Sith, or the might of the Imperial military, which largely sided with the IRC. Leia seized control of the Death Star and 4 of the 12 Grand Admirals sided with her, including Daala. Grant and 6 others sided with the IRC. Thrawn was undecided, as he was currently on assignment in the Unknown Regions and no one had heard from him in some time.


	13. Chapter 13

When Hux finally woke, he discovered that he’d been wrapped in clean bandages and a fresh robe. Most of his major wounds had been healed, or were in the process of healing, but he was still terribly sore all over. Feeling clean again was like a breath of fresh Alderaanian air, but a lingering dread filled him as he looked around the unfamiliar room and realized he was alone and there were things _inside_ him. Panic seized him. He tried to call out but his throat was still raw and dry, and he was still too weak to put much power behind it. His cry came out no louder than a breathy whisper.

The surreality of feeling so many things other than pain overwhelmed him. Of course, the pain was still there; a dull but aching throb that couldn’t be pinpointed in any one place, but pulsed through him like a tide in time with his heartbeat. He could breathe through his nose again, but every inhalation brought with it the cloying sweetness of Bacta. It reminded him of the thistledown that sprouted when the storms occasionally died down to gentle rain on Arkanis. He could taste it in his mouth too, sticky and thick, but he was so surprised and grateful for the change he tolerated it. His left leg and right hand were weighted down, but curiously floating. He couldn’t see for certain, but the way the thin sheet draped over the large, elliptical bulges he realized they must be encased in Bacta pods. Just focusing on the sensation of being clean and covered helped still his racing heart. He could scarcely believe how much humanity that simple act alone had restored to him. 

Still, terror lurked behind his tentative relief, clawing at him with doubt.

_This isn’t real._

_No. Stop. Think about this. This is different. Someone has cleaned me up and, judging from the intravenous drips and Bacta pods, tended to me professionally. I’m in an actual bed, which I assume they wish to keep as sterile as possible. Ergo, they’re probably catheters. Uncomfortable, but not malicious. Stay calm._

Even with the comfort of logic, he felt too vulnerable on his back in this new, larger bed, and tried to roll over. Something prevented him from moving anything but his head, and the sharp pain that radiated from his back when he tried made him rethink his action in short order. _It’s ok, no need to panic_ , he told himself, _I can feel Ben – the_ real _Ben – near … somehow_. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a glass of water on the nightstand and, on a whim, tried to clear his mind like he’d heard Force-users say, and float it over to him. 

Nothing happened.

_Kriffing hell. Well, it was worth a try._

*Tage, are you awake?* Ben’s voice sounded in his mind, and he instinctively recoiled.

_Get out of my head!_ He shrieked, hoping it would be heard above the terrors of the past few weeks that began racing through his mind at the unexpected sound of Ben’s voice.

The door hissed open behind him, and Ben rushed to his side. The way his black cloak flapped out behind him filled Hux’s thoughts with scenes he’d rather not recall. Hux closed his eye.

“Tage, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

_It’s ok_ , he tried to say, but nothing came out.

“Here,” Ben lifted his head and put the glass to his parched lips, “Drink.”

Hux gulped the water down voraciously, though his throat still burned. “Thank you,” he croaked in some semblance of his normal voice, struggling to get hold of his emotions. Ben was unmasked. He realized for the first time that the other Ben had never been without his helmet. Now that he could think more clearly, free of the oppressive mantle of pain, he began piecing things together; though, he was still so weary his thoughts were slow and muddled, and he was reluctant to jump to conclusions.

“Do you want more? Stars, you still feel really warm,” Ben said, feeling the clammy sweat at the nape of Hux's neck.

“Please. How long… have I been asleep?”

“A little over three standard days.”

_Tarkin’s teeth!_ Hux thought, and asked, though he dreaded the answer would be unbearable, “Why can’t I move?”

Ben poured and fed him some more water, which made Hux’s empty stomach complain loudly. “The med droids said something about running a paralytic with your sedative. You were having seizures while they were trying to operate.” His face pinched with grief at the recollection. “They wanted to go for full Bacta immersion, but I remembered how much you hate that.”

Hux smiled at the kindness Ben had done him. A traumatic speeder crash in his youth had left him floating in a tank of the disgusting goo for a week and he had been awake for most of it, feeling constantly trapped in the suffocating enclosure. He shuddered at the memory, but was surprised that Ben had taken that into consideration, or even remembered it. It was oddly selfless of him. And more proof of reality.

“My eye… I still can’t see. Hurts to open.”

Ben looked pained to say, “No, don’t try to open it. The droids thought it was too damaged to save, but I told them to try. There’s a Kaminoan here who’s growing you a new one in case the Bacta doesn’t work.”

Frustration and fear roiled up in him at once, and he screamed out with the ferocity of a sudden storm breaking. “I can’t resume my duties as an officer of the line with only one _kriffing_ eye! I was never even _commissioned_! I don’t even _fracking_ know if I _am_ an officer! While all my friends – beings I trusted and with whom I wished to serve – were graduating and receiving their assignments, I was lying on a floor somewhere, bleeding out in my own piss and shit, listening to my other friends being tortured and murdered by someone who looked like _you_!” 

Hux’s cheeks flushed with shame equal to his fury as he began to cry. As surprised by his own outburst as Ben was, he quieted down and apologized. “I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have shouted.”

“It’s ok,” Ben stammered, keeping his voice low though his first instinct was to rise to Hux’s anger, “You’ve a right to be angry about… what happened.” 

“About _‘what’_ happened? How can you even _look_ at me? You can’t even _say it_ ,” Hux snapped. He’d let the beast out and now he couldn’t stop feeling the sting of shame that drove his rage.

Ben blushed as well. “I don’t care that you were... that you were raped.” Upon seeing the hurt in Armitage’s eye he hastened to continue, “No, no, that’s not—I mean, I _care_ , I just… It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Hux growled, “It changes how _I_ feel about _you_.”

Ben’s mouth opened and closed several times – working, without the collaboration of his brain, to form words that would ameliorate his stupidity, hurt, and embarrassment. The truth of Hux’s statement burned worse than the Inquisitor’s lightsaber had. He felt as though he’d been run through, and he was struggling to not let his own constantly simmering fury take over. _It’s not fair! I didn’t_ fracking _do this! But… this isn’t about me, now._ Deciding there was nothing he could say without losing his temper, and feeling the urge to cry again, he turned to leave.

Hux’s demeanor changed at once. “No! Please, wait! Don’t go! Don’t leave me alone!”

Turning back in confusion, Ben came to kneel by the side of the bed, eyes downcast, still saying nothing. He slid his hand across the sheets to take Hux’s hand, glancing up only long enough to see if Hux was ok with it. He was, and he gripped Ben’s hand with an unexpected strength born of fear.

“I’m sorry. That was cruel. I’m just… _so afraid_ ,” his voice broke in despair. “If you leave me alone, if I fall asleep, when I wake up again I’ll be back in that cell, and the door will open, and you’ll—” he started crying harder, “Twice. Twice y— _he_ did that to me: cleaned my wounds, healed me, pretended we were escaping, that it had all been some ruse. And I would close my eyes, and then… I would be back there, and it would start all over again. It _broke_ me, Ben.”

Ben didn’t know what to say, or if there was anything he could say to make Hux believe him, so he just sat quietly, holding his hand and trying to keep his breathing under control as he fought to stave off a growing, murderous rage at his and his friend’s helplessness. He wished he hadn’t killed all those troopers so quickly. He wished he could kill them over and over and over, eviscerating and vivisecting them piece by piece.

“I can’t—I _can’t_ go through that again. I think I know, now, I want to believe, but, if you—if this isn’t real, _please_ , just kill me. I can’t take it anymore.”

He looked up then, meeting his gaze and feeling his heart break for the… How many times? He had lost count now. “It’s real, Tage. _Please_ , believe me. I don’t know what I can say to make you trust me again, or if you ever will, but it’s _real_. I promise.”

“You said you loved me,” Hux smiled through his tears. “He never said that.” He wanted to reach over to caress Ben’s face and brush away his tears, but his body felt so heavy with exhaustion and it was all he could do to just hold on to his hand. “I think… I can believe you.”

Tired, but still too frightened to let himself drift off, Hux asked as much as said, “Don’t let go. Stay with me.”

“I will.” Ben climbed onto the edge of the bed and lay down next to him, still holding his hand but worried about getting too close. Armitage needed to feel he had control over his personal space.

It didn’t take long for Hux to fall into a deep sleep, his rhythmic, shallow breathing lulling Ben into relaxing as well. Ben lay on his side, staring at Armitage for a long time and trying to think about nothing more than this moment as he traced his thumb over the frail hand in his. Despite the steady Bacta and other intravenous drips, Hux was still precariously sick and weak. Massive infection, and the fever that followed, had ravaged his body even after most of his wounds had closed. It would take months for him to get over all of his various physical ailments and gain back his normal, if perpetually slight, weight. Though his body would heal with time, Ben wondered if his mind would ever be the same again.

He despised seeing his friend so weak and helpless, and knowing, through their bond, how horribly humiliating it was for Tage to be seen in this state. He missed his dignified, smartass friend, whose wit was as fiery as his ginger hair. Annoyance was familiar. These constant waves of conflicting emotions that crashed against him, like the roiling ocean against the cliffs of Pamarthe, were uncharted territory. Anger was comfortable. Selfless love – though it was a different facet of the same passion – and patience were not. He missed their friendly rivalry, and their near-constant bickering, too, least of all because it usually ended with them fucking. Now, he wouldn’t be touching Armitage in that way at all, if ever again. Strangely, for a young man with raging hormones, he found that he was ok with that. 

He realized that although he had heedlessly confessed his feelings to Hux in one impulsive outburst, Armitage hadn’t returned his sentiments. That was ok, too. After all, Ben had the luxury of feeling Armitage’s love for him through the Force, if he really needed to. He didn’t have to say it. And, even if he never did, Ben could live with that. He would be careful to let Hux take the lead in their relationship, but not overtly so. The proud, young officer wouldn’t abide pity any more than Ben could himself.

Now that they were alone again, far from the judgement of their peers, Ben felt safe reaching out to the Light. He closed his eyes, feeling the trance steal over him with an unnerving ease as he turned his thoughts outward, toward Hux, and away from his own insecurities. An undercurrent of fear ran through his thoughts – fear that he would somehow hurt, or further damage his friend with his awkward attempts to heal – and his first instinct was to latch onto it and use it to fuel his power. As soon as he tried, though, the inner shadows stirred and the Light flickered like a dying candle.

_No! Wait!_ The more desperately he grasped for it, the more ethereal it became, like trying to catch snowflakes only to have them melt away at a touch. He panicked and let go of Hux just in time as a vision of horror stole over him: instead of healing, Force lightning surged through his friend and blistered and melted his skin, peeling away to the screaming skull beneath. Ben’s eyes flew open and he lay there quaking in fear, trying to catch his breath as he stared at Hux. He wanted to touch his pale face, to reassure himself that _this_ was real, that Hux was safe now, that nothing had happened, but was still too afraid his vision would come true.

_Ok. It’s ok. That was just—_ he found he had trouble admitting it so plainly to himself, _That was just the Dark Side seeking to regain control. Think! You’ve done this before! How?_

_“Hux is your only weakness.”_

_“Attachments like this will only bring you more pain.”_

_Attachments._ They had all been right. Now, he was allowing that weakness to make him doubt himself. To fear the unknown. To control him. Before, he had opened himself up with no thought to the consequences, seeking only to do what needed to be done.

He would try— No. He would _do_ it again.

This time, he closed his eyes and meditated until he felt nothing but calm serenity and self-assurance. He waited patiently until even that feeling passed away into nothingness. No determination. No self. Just a oneness with the Force that lit up the world around him. In the room he was as bright as a star, and rippling with warm power. Hux’s light was weak, flickering, and there were voids where the most severe damage had occurred, but there was no fear that accompanied that realization, only understanding. He could even see the iridescence of the Bacta flowing into him, different in color but all refractions of the same unifying Light.

Confident now, Ben reached out and placed a hand on Hux’s forehead. He knew only the barest essentials of biology, but that was Ben. He was the Force now, and the Force knew what was right and what should be.


	14. Chapter 14

Ben’s eyes fluttered open at the strained sounds of Hux’s distressed breathing.  He was still asleep, and fear poured off him like his sweat.  The small noises that escaped him pierced Ben’s heart and constricted his chest.  He held a trembling hand out but hesitated.  Even at a distance he could feel the heat of his fever.  It would be so easy for him to enter Armitage’s mind, see what it was that tormented him, but he knew he had no right, no matter his intentions. 

Instead, he combed his fingers through Hux’s sweat-drenched hair and leaned in closer to whisper, “Tage, it’s alright.  You’re alright now.  You’re safe.”  He winced, worried that his voice, his touch, was hurting rather than helping.  Without the Force guiding him, frustration at his own ineffectual gestures picked at his confidence.  The temptation to peek was strong.

_Just skim the surface.  He won’t even feel it.  You can’t help him if you don’t know…_

Again his hand hovered over Hux’s forehead, and again he pulled it back. 

_No! Never again! Not unless he tells me it’s ok.  He’s been violated enough._

Hux whimpered in his sleep, “Ben?” 

He couldn’t tell if it was a plea for him to stop talking or continue.  Not knowing was killing him, so he went with his gut and closed his hand around Hux’s trembling fist.  “I’m here, Tage.  I’m here.  Whatever you’re seeing, it isn’t real.  I would never hurt you.  You’re safe now.”

Hux’s breathing slowed and the tension in his fist faded little by little, though he still shuddered.  Ben gently uncurled Hux’s fingers and intertwined his own, noticing for the first time the rough little moons of scar tissue that dotted his palm.  Most of them were old.  Calloused.  This had been his habit for a long time.  So many stories written in just this one hand, stamped into his flesh forever.

Ben continued, “You’ve been so brave, Tage.  I can feel your strength.  Your courage.  It’s still there.  You’ll find it again.  You’ve been through so much.  Survived so much.  You’ll get through this.  I know you will.”

Though everyone said his brother was the better orator, Ben’s words were exactly what Armitage needed to hear.  His breaths became less ragged and his face slackened as he passed into deep sleep once more.  Ben would have lain like that forever, but Hux’s skin felt as though it might combust at any moment, despite the iciness of his hands, and he worried whether he should call the med droid.  He stared at the scan readout; he didn’t understand much of it, but he knew that the operational percentages for most of his major organs were below optimal, and his fever had climbed unnaturally high over just the last few hours.   It terrified him to think how close Hux still stood to the precipice of Death’s cliff. 

Ben extracted himself from the bed, got some fresh towels, and wrapped some ice from the conservator in them.  If he stayed busy he wouldn’t have to think about it.  So long as he was in motion, he could avoid his feelings.  Or so he told himself.  He returned to Hux, placed one of the ice packs behind his neck, two others under his armpits, and used the last to dab the sweat from his forehead.  He shivered and groaned in his sleep.

“I’m sorry.  I’ve got to get your fever down.”

Half his face was still covered with Bacta strips, so there wasn’t much else Ben could do to help cool him down.  He checked his chrono.  The med droids would be in soon to change out his bandages – no sense in taking them off their rounds by calling them now.  There probably wasn’t anything else they could do anyway; Hux had been maxed out on painkillers, antipyretics, and various other stims since their arrival on the Star Destroyer Oriflamme.

At the appointed time, an aging but functional 2-1B droid trundled in followed by its floating assistant, a GH-7, and a stretcher.  “Good morning, Prince Organa.  May I trouble you for your assistance today?”

“Of course.”  Ben was glad for the chance to be useful, and after the last three days, they had this maneuver down to a science.  He moved out of the way of the second, smaller repulsor-lift bed and floated Hux over to it, turning and setting him down to lie on his stomach, while the GH-7 hovered nearby making sure none of the various tubes and lines became tangled in the process. 

“Do you wish to be present during the removal process?”

Ben took a deep breath and nodded, “Yes, let me wash up first.”

The 2-1B had asked him the same question each day as a matter of protocol.  Ben hadn’t understood why the first time, until he had seen how torturous and laborious the process was.  The slow peeling away of the Bacta and synthflesh strips from Hux’s ruined back was painful enough to bring him to semi-consciousness.  Ben stayed silent and held his hand through the ordeal, but the guilt at witnessing Hux reduced to a sobbing, begging mess at the relentless hands of the droid nearly tore him apart inside.  He should not have been there, knowing how humiliating it would have been for Armitage if he knew someone had seen him in that state, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave Tage to suffer all alone.  It was the sole reason they sent in droids to do the work of the otherwise all-human medical staff, who might incur psychological trauma at having to inflict such pain on their patients.

This time wasn’t much different, though Ben did what he could through the Force to alleviate some of the pain.  He wanted so badly to say something, to tell him it would all be ok, but he didn’t dare take the chance that, in his vulnerable state, Hux would associate the sound of his voice with yet more torment. 

As the bandages fell away, one by agonizing one, Ben was at least relieved to see that there were more patches of fresh, pink skin than before.  It looked as though the Bacta had finally begun to overcome most of the infected areas, too.  Now, they had only to clean away the pus and dead skin, though that was by far the most painful part of the process.  The droid was forced to stop a little over half-way through due to Hux’s temperature and rising heart-rate pushing him into the red on the monitor. 

Ben started to float over the ice packs, but was stopped by 2-1B.  “Those are not sterile.  I would advise against it until the procedure is complete.”

After it had finished stripping and replacing the bedsheets, the GH-7 hovered over and placed a cooling gel pack across the back of Hux’s neck.  Ben wished he had the patience that the droids had.  He contented himself with whispering words of encouragement, now that they’d stopped.

“Is _that_ my boy?”

Ben jumped at the voice behind him.  He’d been so focused on Armitage that he had neither heard nor sensed the older man’s approach.  Looking over his shoulder he saw not only Commandant Hux, but also Grand Admiral Grant and two Stormtrooper escorts standing in the doorway. 

“Yes, Sir,” he said, caught off guard by Brendol’s tone.  Ben was a prince of House Organa; he certainly didn’t owe this man any obeisance, especially after what he’d done to Armitage in the past.  Though Hux Sr. carried his authority well, Ben scolded himself for having been intimidated by it.

Brendol glared down at his son, a mixture of anger and disgust playing across his features.  “This is unacceptable.” 

Ben couldn’t tell if he meant Armitage himself, his condition, the situation that brought it on, or the fact that Ben was here with him.  _Probably all of the above_.

Tage groaned at the sound of his father’s voice, and his heart-rate began to rise again.

“They said your mother was behind this.  You had better start explain—”

“Apologies, Sirs, but now is not the time.  I’m afraid I will have to ask you to wait outside, as you are not scrubbed in,” the GH-7 unit said in its most eager-to-please voice.

The look of indignant rage that passed over Brendol’s face at having been cut off and dismissed by a droid made Ben smile.  He was glad it couldn’t be seen under his surgical mask.

“How dare you? I’m family! He’s the one responsible for all this!” He scowled at Ben. “You have no right—”

This time, he was interrupted by the Grand Admiral’s hand on his shoulder.  “Commandant, there will be plenty of time for talk.  Let’s let the droids finish their work.  We can wait out here, if you like.”

“Yes, Sir,” he grumbled.

Ben had already turned back to soothing Armitage, and didn’t pay any attention to Brendol’s huffy exit.  His fury was as noticeable as his shadow, which fell across them as he looked on from outside the window.  Ben was sorely tempted to flip the switch on the privacy panel that would opacify the transparisteel, but he let it go.  For this to play out right, he needed Hux’s father on his side.  He was angry, though, at the thought of the Commandant being present while Hux was unaware and unguarded.  _He_ didn’t even feel right being here, and he bristled at the thought of that manipulative son of a murglak catching Armitage in a moment of weakness.  Ben sensed only anger in Brendol, tinted by jealousy.  Not even a hint of empathy for his son’s suffering.  Psychopaths were territorial about their prey.

Holding Tage’s hand, Ben did the best he could to comfort and calm him through the Force.  He winced at the piercing cries and whimpers that escaped Hux as the droids continued to scrub his wounds, knowing Brendol was listening and judging him for each one. 

He couldn’t help but feel he’d be entirely justified in eavesdropping on the Commandant.  Skimming his surface thoughts, Ben immediately wished he hadn’t.

_Weak-willed failure… crying like a child… embarrassing… I’ve done worse to him… the Academy did nothing to make a man of him… such a waste… disgusting…_

Ben snapped his consciousness back before he got angry enough to do something he would later regret.  His face burned with embarrassment and rage on Tage's behalf. How could someone feel that way about their own child? He was keenly aware of the irony of the situation, but somehow it was different in a way that he couldn’t put words to.  Despite his current feelings on the matter, he knew his mother loved him and his brother, and she had never mistreated them or allowed anyone else to.  She was ruthless, but never unfeeling.  Even Anakin showed more emotion toward Hux than his father did.  Ben shivered as though affected by an actual chill.  He hadn’t understood, until now, the oppression under which Armitage had grown up.  Ben had even tried to justify, in his naïveté, the scars he’d seen on his friend’s body as some sort of necessary training regimen.  The thought sickened him now.

The droids finished as quickly as they could, and Hux was already unconscious again by the time they began applying fresh Bacta strips and synthflesh pads in orderly rows from top to bottom.  On their signal, Ben lifted him once more and gently settled him into bed.  Hux didn’t stir as Ben smoothed his hair back so GH-7 could remove the bandages from his face.  The surgical team had done a fine job of reconstructing and re-growing the fractured bones; he was still bruised and slightly swollen, but almost all of the incisions and scrapes had healed without a trace.  He would probably bear a faint scar under his eye, but nothing more.

Ben was impressed by the delicate motor skills of the droid, who managed to remove the Bacta pod and clean around Hux’s eye without causing enough distress to wake him.  GH-7 regarded him with what looked like confusion for a moment, and consulted the readouts on the monitor.  It beeped quizzically at the 2-1B unit, who was checking the status of the Bacta pod on Hux’s leg.

“No,” Ben answered, “I healed him.”

“Oh,” said GH-7 in that vaguely sarcastic tone that all droids seemed equipped with, “That explains it.”

“Well,” Ben said with a surprise equal to that of the droids’, “I don’t know if it worked or not.”

The 2-1B shuffled closer and leaned in to observe as GH-7 separated Hux’s eyelids and scanned him on various frequencies.  His blue-green iris seemed cloudy, but that could have been due to the Bacta; it reacted to the various light waves appropriately, as far as Ben could tell.  He dared to hope that Hux would be able to see as well as he used to, if not better.  It brought him a small measure of joy in this otherwise hellish day.

The droids conferred amongst themselves and decided it would be best to leave the Bacta pod on for now, as it couldn’t hurt to be careful when it came to Hux’s vision.  GH-7 filtered and reattached it, along with two smaller bandages over the remaining scars on his face.

“How’s his leg and hand?”  As he said it, Ben heard the door slide open behind him.

2-1B responded, “In my opinion, the leg pod should be ready to come off within a standard day, though he should remain in bed to avoid putting any undue pressure on the fracture.  The hand is more difficult to estimate.  In fact, he might consider being fitted for a prosthetic.  The damage is extensive and the Bacta, though efficient, can only do so much.  Perhaps my Prince could utilize the Force once more to heal that as well?”

“I’ll do whatever I can.  Thank you.  When will he wake up?”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Brendol growled.  “Droid, per protocol 281-45 concerning visitation rights in intensive care and emergency situations, I hereby revoke this boy’s privileges and demand he be removed immediately.”

“How dare you?” Ben snarled, whirling to face the Commandant.  “Regardless of the side I now find myself on, I am still a Prince of Alderaan, and you will show me the proper respect.”

“2-1B, belay that.”  The Grand Admiral stepped between them, clearly irritated by Brendol's lack of proper respect for someone of noble blood.  “My Prince, Commandant, lest you forget, you are all guests aboard _my_ ship, and until _I’ve_ decided to trust any of you, there will be no more pissing contests over rank.  Is that understood?”

Ben and Brendol glowered at one another, but nodded in assent.

“I gave my word that Prince Organa may stay with his friend.  He has been under strict watch while here, and has comported himself with honor and respect.  I expect the same of you.”

“Yes, Sir,” the Commandant muttered.

“Now, let us retire somewhere private to speak, and let your son get his rest.”

Ben wanted to protest that he should be there when Armitage woke up, but he didn’t want to say anything that would make him look needy or weak in front of his father.   Sensing his hesitation, Grant asked, “2-1B, I believe you were about to tell us when Jr. Lt. Hux would wake up?”

“If his fever breaks, possibly within a standard day or two, but no sooner.”

“Is that satisfactory, my Prince?” Grant asked.

“Yes, Sir.  Thank you.” Ben nodded and took off his surgical gown and mask and followed the pair out.  He didn’t have to address the Grand Admiral as “Sir” either, but, in his case he felt like reciprocating.  He hoped Brendol noticed the difference.


	15. Chapter 15

Hux didn’t wake again until a day and a half later.  In his peripheral vision he saw Ben sleeping on the edge of the bed and it helped to quell his initial panic.  Then he turned his head and saw, over the top of Ben's black-clad shoulder, his father's cold stare boring into him.

"Finally awake, eh?"

"Yes, Sir," he tried to say, but the fever had burned all the moisture from his throat and nothing more than a rattling whisper escaped him.

"Speak up when addressing your betters, boy."

_Does he know what happened to me? Does he even care? Why is he here?_

Hux rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying to work up enough spit to coat his throat, and swallowed hard, knowing that any request for water would be met with derision.  It wasn't worth the fight.  _I'm just fine, by the way, thanks for asking,_ he wanted to sneer, but didn't dare. "Yes, Sir," he croaked in a voice that sounded alien to him.

Ben, pulled from sleep by the turmoil in Hux's mind, opened his eyes and caught Armitage's attention, but didn't move or give any other sign that he was awake.

"And here you are, lying in bed next to the person responsible for putting us in this situation.  Is this how you plan to have children for the glory of the Empire? I tolerated your dalliances with him because of who he was and what he could do for our family, but that has come to an end."

_Us? Our family?_ _When have we ever been a_ family _?_ The word stuck in his mind like a thorn. He admitted he didn't really know what a family was supposed to be, but he was certain this wasn't it.  _You 'tolerated'...? As if you had anything to do with the decisions I've made, or who I've become over the past 3 years! And what has Ben got to do with this? It wasn't him that hurt me._   Hux wanted to shout, to rail against his father's calumny, but he didn't have the strength.

Ben could feel the anger building inside himself, mirroring Hux's.  "Is that what you think?" he asked, still not turning around.

He heard Brendol heft his weight from the chair and stomp up behind him.  "Get up, boy."

Ben didn't move, he just squeezed Hux's hand to reassure him and held his gaze.  He felt a surge of violent intent rise in the Commandant before Hux glanced upward, cringing in fear.  "If you raise a hand to me, or to your son, you will _lose_ it.  Do not forget that I would be perfectly within my rights to execute you on the spot."

Armitage's eyes widened, but Ben didn't get the feeling that he was opposed to his suggestion.  Rather, he was stunned; no one spoke to Brendol Hux that way and lived to tell about it.  And Ben wasn’t finished, either:

"I suggest you leave us be until you are able to treat your son respectfully, as a decent human being, which doesn't seem like something you've ever done or intend to do.” Visions of murder flashed through Brendol’s head: Ben, his face pummeled into a splintered mess by the Commandant’s meaty fists; Ben, sliced apart piece by piece with a vibrodagger; Ben, shackled to a pillar in a courtyard, being laughed at by the hundreds of cadets that surrounded him, whipped until his bones glistened in the rain.  He closed his eyes, unable to bear the _knowing_ and hold Armitage’s gaze at that last image.  “Did you forget that I'm privy to every thought that passes through your repulsive mind?"

Ben felt Brendol shrink away from him at the realization of the extent of his powers.  The Commandant was gravely suspicious of the Force and anyone who could wield it.

"You have no idea of what your son has become since he left home, or the horrors he just faced, bravely, on his own. Who do you think you are to belittle what he's accomplished by pretending _my_ influence somehow gave him what he _earned_? You make me sick."

Hux's face had gone sheet-white and he gripped Ben's hand fiercely.  He was afraid, but also exhilarated, and gave no indication that he wanted Ben to stop.

"You think you can lord your power over us because Grant wants your troops and your support, but don't pretend that I don't know you'd switch sides in an instant if it meant you'd come out on top.  Tell me, Brendol, which of the two of us do you think makes the better political pawn here?"

The Commandant sputtered, so enraged he was barely able to put together a sentence.  " _You_ asked… _me_! To come _here_! You _need_ me!"

"And right now I'm telling you to leave.  And don't come back until you've learned how to address _your_ betters."

Armitage stared at Ben with a mixture of shock and reverence as his father stormed out.  He was still confused as to why his father was even here, acting as though he cared, but the mention of Grant's name and his father's suggestion that Ben had something to do with this had set his mind whirling.  Slowly, he started to piece things together.

"Ben?" he whispered, "What did he mean when he said you were responsible for this?"

Ben got up to get Hux some water, but also so that he would have time to think about what to say.  He really wasn't prepared to have this conversation.  He could lie, but Tage was too smart for that, and he deserved the truth, even if he hated Ben for it later.  He poured the water, glad that he wouldn't have to look him in the eye when he said, "When I got you out of there, I had to face my... _former_ Master, the Grand Inquisitor.  He told me this was my mother's doing."

He helped Hux drink and waited for him to continue. "But... Why? She... Empress Organa has always been kind to me." The sharp, bitter edge of hurt and betrayal entering his voice slashed Ben like a thousand razors. "What did I do?"

"Oh, stars, Tage! You didn't do anything! It's all my fault!" He broke down into sobs. "She wanted to marry me off for her stupid political gains and I wouldn't have it because— because I wanted to be with you!"

Armitage wanted to be angry.  And he didn't want to be angry.  That he had suffered so much because of Ben's inability to see the bigger picture and do what was right by his family...

_No.  That's not fair and you know it.  You sound like your father._  Hux shuddered.   _There is more to this, there_ has _to be._

_"...political gains..."_

_Even if Ben's reluctance to follow his mother's commands were the reason for this, it still wouldn't have been his fault.  He wasn't there.  He wasn't the one who hurt me.  And he's not just some pawn to be traded around for someone else's power grab.  
_

"Ben," he said, reaching out to take his hand again, "Even if that's true... It's… still not your fault.  You said something about 'political gains'.  What did your mother gain from this that could make up for losing her son in the process? She must have known how you felt about me. No one can keep secrets from her."

Ben scrubbed away his tears and regarded Hux with a kind of awe.   _How can he be so calm about this? Is he really not mad at me? How can he not_ hate _me?_  "I... I don't know.  I never thought about it like that."

"I take it she framed Grant for the attack, which is why we're here."

"Yes... That's right.  How did you know?"

"The men who took us were Imperials.  I recognized one of them from the Academy.  But Hegan--" He winced at the recollection.  Saying her name out loud brought so many emotions on at once that he had to pause to catch his breath and suppress his tears.  "Hegan thought that they were Grant's people, looking for revenge since he was thwarted at Thyferra. And that got me thinking. Empress Organa must have gotten something out of it."

"That's it!" Ben recalled, "Something Anakin said to me in one of his messages: all of the remaining supporters of the old IRC had been swayed to support her.  She has no more opposition on Coruscant.”

“There it is.” Hux nodded, deep in thought.  “Don’t blame yourself.  I don’t.”

“I—” Ben stammered, “I thought you would… _hate_ me.”

“No.” He shook his head ever so slightly, “I can’t promise I won’t get mad.  This is all so… overwhelming.  But, whatever I may say in anger, you are not responsible for your mother’s actions.”

Ben had never felt as blessed as he had in that moment.  In a world of backstabbing and betrayal, where only the most powerful survived, he knew Hux would always be there for him and he vowed to do the same.  Without any embarrassment he said, “I love you.”

Hux looked for a moment like he might say something sarcastic, but he pushed away that defensive urge and admitted, plainly, “I’m not sure I know what that means.  It’s been so long since… I don’t remember.  I don’t know if anyone has ever… loved me.  I hope you understand; I don’t want to say it until I know.”

Ben bit back tears at the thought that Armitage had never had anyone in his life who had cared for him or shown him any affection.  Just the simple, dispassionate way he had of saying it was enough to make him want to cry.  _Like it was a passage from a book on engineering starships.  Like it was normal to be unwanted and alone._   “It’s alright,” he said, his voice wavering.  He kissed the back of Hux’s hand and tried to smile.  “I can feel it.  Even if you can’t.”

“Thank you.  For watching over me.  For everything.”  Hux smiled back, his eyelids heavy with sleep. 

“Anything, Tage.  Just ask.  I’ll be here as long as you want me to be.”

“Actually,” he paused, trying to balance his pride with his need to feel safe, “Can you help me turn over? I don’t like not having my back to the wall.”

“Of course.”

Ben held his arm to steady him and let him move as much as he could under his own power before giving him a nudge with the Force.  Once he had settled, Ben pulled the sheet back into place and brushed his hair back from his face.  The fiery strands had grown much longer than his usual regulation cut.

Grimacing, Hux squeezed his eyes shut until the pain radiating from his back subsided.  “Why the _frack_ does it still hurt so much?” he groaned.

“You had—still have—an infection, though it looks like it’s clearing up now.  They tried to graft synthflesh over the worst of it while you were fighting it, but it wouldn’t take.  Now that your fever is mostly gone, it should start to mend.”

“I see.”  He said, then, realizing it was more than just a metaphor, Hux’s eyes widened and he stared at Ben, blinking.  “I—I mean, I can see!” he gasped and held his breath, afraid he might start crying if he let it out.  “Ben! My eye! I can see! How…?” 

The genuine happiness in Hux’s smile was something Ben never thought he would see again.  It almost made him cry as well.  He grinned back at him and shrugged, “I healed you.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.”

Hux started laughing and crying, unable to hold back any longer.

Ben caressed his face, wiping away his tears.  “You look so beautiful when you smile.”

“Oh, stars, Ben… Stop it,” he said, still sniffling and chuckling, “You say the dumbest things.”

“I mean it.”

Hux felt a twinge of guilt for doubting Ben’s sincerity, but it was also a sobering thought.  He had never thought much of his looks before; now, he must be horribly scarred and disfigured.   He hated himself for feeling so vain, but he had to know.  So much of an officer’s authority was predicated on his appearance.  “How… How _do_ I look? Actually?”

“You might have a small scar or two, here and here,” Ben lightly traced a finger over the remaining Bacta strips under his eye and from his eyebrow to his temple, “but otherwise you’ll be back to your old self in a few days, I think.”

He wanted to see for himself but was content, for now, to trust Ben’s assessment.  “What happened to you?”

“Oh, this?” Ben touched his own scar.  “I made a new lightsaber.”

“I take it it didn’t go so well?”

Ben laughed and looked sheepish.  “No.  Not really.  I rushed it.”

“Is it hard to do?”

“No, but it requires a lot of concentration, and I had started to feel…”  He didn’t want to tell Armitage that he had felt what was happening to him, because he didn’t want to think about that right now, but also because it was intrusive and he didn’t want it to come off as accusatory.

Despite his fevered exhaustion, Hux’s mind was as sharp as ever.  “That _was_ your voice I heard.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why he… he started pretending you were rescuing me.  So I wouldn’t believe you.  He must have known you were coming.”  Hux despised himself for having been so easily deceived.  He shuddered and cringed as images of his last days in captivity tumbled through his mind, but a moment of clarity brought him back.  “Your new lightsaber: it’s red, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  Why?”

“He didn’t know you had made it.  He was still using your old one.”   The realization brought with it an immense sense of relief.  Though he was fairly certain, now, that this was all real, somewhere in the shadowy recesses of his mind he had wondered if he really believed it, or if he would always be questioning it on some level.  Hux looked at his right hand, still floating in the clear blue-ish goop of the Bacta pod.  He couldn’t tell how much of the swelling was due to light refraction or trauma, but it didn’t look good.  The bones seemed to have been re-set, but his skin was deep violet, almost black in places.  The other pods had all been removed already.  His voice went flat, despite the twitch of panic that started to rise within him, “I’m going to lose my hand, aren’t I.”

Ben took a deep breath.  _Be honest_.  “I don’t know.  I healed as much as I could, but with the infection… the med droid suggested a replacement.  They’re going to have to take you off the Bacta soon.  There’s a shortage of it here since we— since my mother took over Thyferra.”

_Smart_ , Hux thought, bitterly.  _We can’t win a war, even with superior numbers, if we can’t heal our troops.  The dip in morale alone would destroy us_.  Another, random thought jumped into his head.  _Stars, I’m starving_.  It was strange how clearly he could think now that the pain was largely at bay; although his brain, as if in celebration, seemed to want to cram ten different thoughts in for every one he was trying to follow.  For now, he didn’t mind the distraction.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about having a droid arm, and he didn’t really want to think about it.

“Is there anything to eat around here? I could eat a Bantha.”

“I’ll go ask the doctor.”

Ben felt Hux's momentary spike of fear at being left alone, but he fought hard to quell it.

“I’ll only be gone a few minutes.  Besides, she should probably come take a look at you, now that you’re awake.”

“Ok.”

True to his word, Ben wasn’t gone more than ten minutes, though it felt like an hour to Hux.  He started to doze off again, but found he still couldn’t trust the promise of safety here.  Not while he was alone, and not while his father lurked about somewhere in the ship.  He had never really gotten much sleep even before being tortured, but now he wondered if he would ever be able to again.  The unfairness of it all surged within him, along with loathing for his self-pity.  His mind was the one thing he’d always been proud of, and yet he had been so easily manipulated by some illusion of the Force.  He never thought he was weak or susceptible enough to succumb to some Jedi mind-trick.  But now, even freed from the physical torment, he feared his mind would never be the same again.  The irony of how intensely he had longed for sleep just days ago, and now was doing everything in his power to fight it was not lost on him.  Mercifully, Ben reappeared with the doctor and two medical droids just as he was about to lose his battle with fatigue.

“Jr. Lt. Hux,” the older woman smiled, looking over her datapad, “I’m Dr. Jennet.  How are you feeling today?”

He was feeling so many things he didn’t even know how to respond.  “I, um, I’m alright, I suppose, considering…”

“Do you wish to have your consultation in private?”

“No, Sir.  He can stay.”

She nodded and made a note in her charts as Ben came to sit beside him again.  “You can drop the ‘Sir’ in here.  I don’t stand on formalities in the medbay.”

“Yes, S—sorry.”

“That’s quite alright.”  Her smile was much warmer and more genuine than he would have expected from a high ranking medical officer who had no doubt seen worse atrocities than Hux had endured.  “I imagine you must be extremely hungry.  However, you’re quite malnourished, and eating too much in your current state could be dangerous.  I’ve authorized you to be started out on soups and soft foods, and we’ll work our way up from there.”

“Thank you,” he said, his stomach growling at the mere mention of food.

“I’d also like for you to start getting up as much as you can.  If Prince Organa is willing to help you attend to certain functions, and if it’s alright with you, we can remove your catheters today as well.”

Hux wasn’t sure his pride could handle it, but he would deal with that later.  He wanted all of these tubes and wires _out_ of him, so he nodded his consent.

“My apologies, Prince Organa.  Or nursing staff is quite overtaxed at the moment.”

“It’s no trouble, Dr. Jennet.”

“Thank you.”

Ben took Armitage’s hand and turned away while the droids did their work.  Hux inhaled sharply and squeezed Ben’s hand as the tubes slid free.  It stung, but was over just as quickly, and he did feel better for it.

“Can you sit up?”

He struggled to move against the persistent weight of his body, even with Ben’s assistance.  A sharp tearing sensation in his shoulder made him gasp and collapse back to bed.  “Sorry, I… Everything still feels so heavy.”

“It’s alright.  Don’t overdo it.  The paralytic stopped as soon as you were conscious for more than ten minutes.  It should be out of your system within the hour.”  She gently felt around his previously fractured collarbone and the joint of his shoulder, which made him hiss though he tried to stay silent.  “You’ve dislocated this before.”

“Yes.  Wedgeball game.  Last year.”

“Hmm,” she scrolled through her notes, trying to hide her surprise that someone of his stature could have been on a wedgeball team, “It’s going to take longer to heal the second time around.   I strongly suggest you limit use of that arm for at least two weeks.  Let someone help you if you need to get up or move around.”

“Ok.”

“It looks like all the bones in your arm have healed nicely, despite old injuries there as well.  More wedgeball, I assume?”

“The same.”

“Why people insist on allowing children to play that game…” she shook her head and continued moving her hands down to the tips of his fingers.  “Everything looks fine here.  Squeeze my hand.”

He did as she said.

“Good.  No pain?”

“No.”

Dr. Jennet continued her check-up, nodding approvingly at the overall progress of his healing.  The fact that his eye was as good as new didn’t even faze her.  Hux thought she was old enough to have been through not just the last Galactic War, but probably the Clone Wars, too.  She must have seen Jedi healing techniques before.  When she came back around to look at his other hand, though, she looked solemn.  Hux braced himself for bad news.

“Let’s take a look and see what’s been going on here.  This will probably hurt, so let me know if it gets to be too much.  There’s no need to be stoic and cause further damage.”

He nodded, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him.  He felt like he should be inured to pain by now, but he found himself terrified of the prospect.

Ben stepped back as the droids hovered over to lay some sterile cloths under the pod while Dr. Jennet popped the seal and carefully pulled his hand free.  The swelling didn’t look as bad as it had through the curved lens of the transparisteel pod, but it was still alarming.  The doctor dabbed away the slimy residue and began the agonizing process of palpitating each tendon and bone.

Hux grit his teeth and held out his other hand for Ben to take, squeezing his eyes shut and half-burying his face in the pillow so he wouldn’t have to see her bending and swiveling each bruised finger.  Fear of losing his hand drove him to keep silent.  If she could do what she needed to do, it would all be over soon and everything would be fine.  Ben held his hand and stroked his hair as his breathing became more labored. 

“On a scale of one to ten, where is your pain right now?”

“F—five, six maybe,” he said, his voice almost cracking under the strain.

“Hux, I need you to be honest with me.”

“Nine,” he groaned, “Stop, please, just… let me catch my breath.”

She laid his hand down on the soft towels and continued writing her notes.  “This doesn’t look good, I’m afraid.  You’re still receiving massive doses of painkiller, and if it hurts this badly, it indicates severe nerve damage.  Can you move it on your own?”

Glaring at his hand, concentrating all his focus, he was able to slowly close it into a loose fist, though the act sent white hot trails of pain up every nerve in his arm.

Dr. Jennet observed his every motion: not just his hand, but also his face, for any sign of distress.  The young officer was good at hiding his pain, she would give him that, but she was also adept at spotting it.  Decades of dealing with recalcitrant, tough-guy soldiers had taught her exactly what to look for.

“Alright.  That’s enough,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “I know you’re afraid to lose your hand, but at this point I would recommend replacement.  Even if it were to heal, in time, I’m afraid there has been too much tissue damage for it to return to complete normalcy.  If you keep it, you will always have pain.  To be honest, even with a mechanical replacement, I would expect some phantom pain to be recurrent, but you would regain your old mobility.  There are certain advantages, as well: increased strength and dexterity.”

It took Hux a while to find his voice.  “What does it… feel like?”

“You wouldn’t have the same sensitivity as with a natural hand, but the feedback algorithms these days are quite advanced.  It would take some time and practice to get used to the difference in strength, but you would still be able to sense changes in temperature and pressure.  You would even have the option of turning sensory input off in case you had to engage in some kind of dangerous activity.”

“Do I have to decide now?”

“No.  I can give you two, maybe three more days in the pod.  But I’ll be honest with you: I don’t think there will be any great difference in improvement.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll have the droids bring in some soup for you.  Take it easy and rest.  Your fever is lower but not gone; any overexertion could cause a relapse.  I’ll return in the morning to see about your back.”

“Thank you,” he said, sincerely though somewhat distantly.

“You’re welcome.”  She patted his shoulder and left.  The droids followed her out after they had finished cleaning and re-sealing the pod around his hand.

Hux didn’t say anything for a while.  He tried not to think either, wanting to avoid falling into the black hole of self-pity that threatened to swallow him up in its darkness.  His eyes shone with unshed tears as he stared into the distance, and his thoughts turned to Grand Admiral Teshik, whose integrity and skill he had always admired, and who was now completely cyborg following the massive injuries he’d sustained at the Battle of Andalia.  Teshik had barely retained twenty-five percent of his body, and yet he continued to serve admirably; what was a single hand compared to that?

And yet, Hux didn’t want to be like that, to be less than whole, to give _anyone_ yet another reason to ridicule him for his weakness.  Teshik was an incredible leader and role-model, but he was alone.  Even other Grand Admirals mocked him and called him inhuman.  They spoke openly of their disdain for him and scorned him in private meetings and public gatherings alike.  Hux craved the respect of his fellow officers.  It was vain, and selfish, but he _wanted_ it.  He had worked his whole life to be acknowledged, to feel like he meant something to someone, and all of this was so _unfair_.

Ben watched Hux struggle with his inner turmoil, still holding his hand, wanting to help, but not knowing what else he could do or say.

The tendons in his neck tensed as Hux bit down hard, swallowing, fighting back against the tide of self-pity that rolled toward him like a tsunami, inescapable and unstoppable.  He drew a deep, shuddering breath and tried to hold onto anger instead, anything to stop this wave of humiliating sorrow that he secretly wanted to dive headlong into.  He had been brave long enough; at the end of the day he was still just a seventeen year old boy afraid of losing everything he’d worked so hard for.

A growl in the back of his throat crept forward until it had become a keening, wordless wail of despair that eventually shattered into relentless, heaving sobs. 

“Why? Why did he do this to me?” he cried. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Ben wanted so badly to comfort him, to find something he could say to make things right, but he knew there was nothing in the world that could fix this, and that knowledge turned all the words to bitterness in his mouth.  It was good for Hux to let it out, so Ben sat quietly – tormented by how small and fragile and helpless Hux looked – and cried his own awkward tears, knowing he had no right to them.

Hux cried so hard and for so long that his sobs turned into hiccups, in the way they did when little children lost themselves in a fit.  Rather than being the release he had hoped for, Hux felt even more humiliated and ashamed.  “My father was right… I’m so… _fracking_ weak… so _worthless_ …”

“No,” Ben protested, tilting Armitage’s chin up so he could look him straight in the eye.  He could bear Hux feeling sorry for himself, but he would not allow him to turn that into self-hatred.  “You are _not_ weak.  You are _not_ worthless.  You were tortured.  Grown men, hardened soldiers break under that kind of strain.  You held on.  You survived.”

“But… I wanted to die! I wanted it so much! I begged him to kill me!” he sobbed, “I wish he had!”

Hux's confession crushed Ben, but he dared not show it.  He couldn’t bring himself to think about how close he’d come to losing Tage, or imagine a life without him.

“I know it’s hard for you to see right now, but you _will_ get through this.  _We_ will.  Together.  You’re _not_ alone.  As long as you want me here, I’ll be here for you.”

Hux stared back at him, his green-blue eyes searching for any sign of a lie.  He wanted to believe Ben, but he felt suffocated under the weight of self-doubt.

“Listen.  I know you think it’s dumb, or sappy, or whatever for me to say these things, but you are _so_ brave.  You’re smart, and witty, and beautiful, and so damned irritating, and you mean _everything_ to me.  You’re _none_ of those things your father says.  _None_ _of them_.”

Hux sniffled and quieted himself with slow, shaky breaths.  He did think Ben was melodramatic, but he also felt a certain warmth at hearing those words.  _Is this what it’s like to be accepted? To be loved?_

“Yes.”

Hux wasn’t even mad that Ben had just read his mind.


End file.
